Tri
by Ellourrah
Summary: A collection of three-part drabbles, for those who only have a lunch break to enjoy a story :) Rated T for themes
1. The Truth-1

The truth was, she knew.

The moment the locket brushed against the tips of her fingers, the memories had burst from the back of her mind, riddled with yearning, heartache, and loss. She'd stared at the piece, horrified by the visions bubbling up from beneath the surface, afraid and suddenly very alone.

Luna had ordered her to take it, had yowled at the heavens in irritation that the moon warrior would be so spacey.

How was she supposed to react? Serenity had always wondered what it was like to be a warrior, to fight alongside her guard. It was a childish wish, something she would have dreamed of, but never tried in the past. She was scared. It was exhilarating.

As the others slowly merged together, Luna's initial disdain for her spread across the group. Part of her wished she'd said something. The cat's blind loyalty to a princess she couldn't remember was more of a comfort than recognition would have been though. The days blurred by, the Senshi had fallen in line, all displaying the same frustration, the same level of dislike at the thought of their "leader." It had been a wise decision to let them all wonder, as she had once. It was easy to live life as a princess, surrounded by an escort, loved by a prince. At least now, their real feelings were out in the open.

The thought forced an aching sob from her chest. The waves roared from below.

Endymion. In this life, he hated her. Those magnetic blue eyes, once so warm and sweet, were shuttered. In the beginning, she had been certain his taunts were playful and inviting. They seemed to have flirted and bantered as they had in the past, and the exchange was exciting and fun. She had hoped as things progressed that he would eventually open up, that the tension would turn sweet. How wrong she was.

She'd gone for a walk last week, just for some time away from the others. They laughed and joked together, but the constant jabs hurt more and more. In the midst of these thoughts, she happened to glance through a café window, and it all came crashing down–Mamoru, with his beautiful eyes latched to a girl across the table. The heart pulsed once, withered, and died in an instant, because she knew that look.

She knew.

The next time they spoke, she tried not to be hurt, to be angry. So many nights between had been spent sobbing, wondering what she'd done wrong. When his callous words came back, laced with hatred and cynicism, the mirage faded in an instant. He had once loved her, his princess, long ago. This life would be nothing close. The scathing remarks about her grades, her hair, and her voice became cruel in her mind. The memories she had once blushed and laughed over became a plague.

He loved someone else.

She wanted to say it didn't matter. The first drops of rain began to slide down her face, the thunder loomed closer from across the sea. A shudder racked the tiny form.

She knew. The girls had spent every moment harping on her for all the same reasons, her failures in life where Usagi could never be Serenity. The days and nights began to blur together, she no longer sought the comfort of her protector, knowing he would have nothing to do with her until the truth came out. The girls would continue to believe her a waste of life so long as they never knew who their precious princess really was.

Usagi was not Serenity.

The wood in her hand squeaked beneath the urgent pressure clenching her whole body together. The rain licked at her flesh.

As much as she loved her guard, their haughty, condescending eyes filled the moments between with self-loathing and fear. She was sent here to atone for the life she took on the moon, make things right between good and evil. How could she? The blundering, loud, and obnoxious girl that she was, how could she possibly fix something even her mother couldn't?

As their powers grew, so did the strength of the enemy. One night, so late it was nearly morning, her tears had burst like a star, and the crystal fell with a patter to the sheets. Even then, she could see the whispering lines of power being drawn from the stone toward the north–knew in that moment exactly why Beryl's forces seemed stronger.

She sobbed, clutching the item tightly in both fists, close to her heart. How could she hope to continue, fighting the demons spawned from a girl so much like herself? Now that Mamoru loved someone else, and Beryl drawing closer by the second, how could she not take action? How could she let it continue, knowing that the demon Metalia drew strength from her continued existence? Wouldn't it be more useful, kinder even, to finish the job alone?

The time was drawing too near. Soon, she would have to reveal herself to the others, and the story would shift and slide away. Their loyalty would become absolute, of that she was perfectly certain. All the wrong reasons. Would he remember? Did he want to?

He would never look at her that way again. Not without knowing.

It was so cold. Freezing rain flicked against her face and arms like tiny needles penetrating to the bone. She blinked the tears away, glanced down along the rocky cliff. The sea raged in hunger below, the glimmer of her weapon flashing in the coming storm. She shivered, staring down the jagged boulders, the pawing water. It was only fair.

The others would never know. They'd keep looking for their princess in the shadows, Beryl would slowly lose power, and Mamoru would...move on... It was better this way. Everything would be.

Her fists flinched apart, frozen by rain and cold. The wooden handle of her mother's carving knife was bent and broken where her fingers bit too hard. She had done it once before. They could keep their hope for the future if she could just find the strength again.

She was trembling. The sharp pain, the end of memories seemed like a refuge. Anything was better than this, watching her best friends hate her. Watching him. Her fingers tightened across the handle, drew the blade close to the flesh of her wrist. She tensed, knowing the bite would come the second her fist pulled down. It was the only way to be sure. The only way she would know.

Lightning flashed, and the thunder broke the scream to pieces. Blood and water mixed by her feet as the sting raged across her arm. The tears fell. Numb, aching, the fingers unclenched long enough to switch hands. This time, it was so much easier. The pain was sharp and fast, the scream not so loud. She shuddered still, felt the weightlessness of shock begin to set in.

Her feet shifted closer to the edge. She needed to make sure. The cliff was muddy and dark in the night. The waves below growled hungrily, lapping at the rocks to quench the thirst. She sobbed, nearly losing her grip on the weapon.

She'd done things right the first time. Her mother had been wrong to try and catch her soul, to send her here to the future where everything was so different. In a selfish move, the Queen had cursed them all with a spirit too broken, too damaged to ever make things right. She wished, again and again, that the memories had never come. It would be so much more bearable, understanding that some faceless perfection would lead their group to victory someday. Not Usagi.

She shifted closer to the edge, fingers barely able to hold her weapon close. The strength was leaving her. To wait another minute may be to seal her fate on the rocks, her last line of defense.

She had to be sure.

It was easy to lift the blade, to set the point against her chest where the space between ribs left a hollow. She'd done it before. His face burned in her skull, so filled with loathing, with hatred. Rather than focus on this, though, she pulled the memory of his last breath, of her shattered hope. Her prince died long ago, and the man who wore his image belonged to someone else: someone who made him happy, someone he could have a future with.

"Without him." The words felt crusted and old, something murmured from a dream. Her eyes clenched shut, head bowed low. The blade pulled.

"What the hell?" The dark voice, the sudden weight tearing at her arm ripped a strangled cry from the girl. Another hand tore the knife from her, his cursing spewed with every ounce of hate she'd ever heard from him. Her chest ached where the knife had slit, warm blood drizzled down her shirt.

Before the second hand could tear her back, she lunged toward the cliff, forcing every ounce of strength into her legs, prying his hand free. He wouldn't budge, and the pathetic attempt to finish what she'd begun died in a terrible sob. Her legs finally gave, one knee crumbling the ledge away while he fought. She wanted to scream.

"I said stop it! Usagi-chan!" With a heft, he all but lifted the sodden girl away, clutched her close as she shuddered and sobbed, hating him. Why? What had she done to deserve this? Wasn't it enough to realize, to come all the way out here, to plan? Couldn't fate just allow the inevitable to happen, let this one blaring mistake slip away without another word?

She coughed, felt the rain sizzle within her arms. He was crushing the wounds, forcing the magma-like pain so hard into her being that a scream no longer seemed sufficient. In a blessed moment of relief, the pressure eased just enough, her blood slick between them, that she slipped from his hands.

"Don't you," he began, but was too late as she fumbled for the sudden flicker of light in the grass. She could still get away. She could still finish it if only she could get away from him.

A firm grip snapped to her ankle, ripped back hard enough that the knife fled from her grasp. The cliffs backed away, a yard or more of space between her and peace. Exhaustion lapped at her frame. How long since she'd made the first cut? Her strength was ebbing into the grass in a sodden mess, her clothes tinged and face bloodied. She sobbed again, pressing her face to the ground and willing him to just leave her be.

He hated her anyway.

She was nothing to him.

"All this for some boy? What the fuck, Usagi! What are you thinking?" He was panting, pulling at her shoulder while she shuddered away.

If only he knew.

"Let go. Do the world a favor." The words fell from her mouth to the grass, too tired to raise herself up again. Her eyes were dim and cold. Her breath was growing weak. If only she could force her heart to beat harder, to empty the worthless sack of life and let her drift away.

Maybe they'd fight long enough that he wouldn't notice.

"Usagi-chan," he tried again, this time the anger melted. It burned. She burned. The pain in her arms, in her chest flared at the tone, knowing he only used it because he'd caught her. That agony seared to the bone, knowing all of this was a lie.

She'd seen him. To pretend there was more now seemed much cruel than even Mamoru could be. She knew that look, the way his eyes softened, the way his brows relaxed. Endymion had saved it only for her in the past: his refuge from the terrible weight of responsibility. Mamoru would never know that. He could go on his stupid dates and never remember her.

The Odango, the idiot who thought maybe someone could care. Usagi was worthless. He knew that. He could see the truth where others saw only the façade.

"Don't be like this, Odango Atema." His voice drove the wedge deeper, made her ache for the bite of steel instead. Anything was better than to feel that hopeless love tear through her.

If only the earth would open up beneath her. If only he'd look away. Her face burned with shame: for wanting him, for the numb ache throbbing in her fingers. She coughed, face spattered in mud and worse.

Just leave. Just go.

"Please, let me see." Thunder boomed, shredded the words to pieces. It didn't matter. The insistent tug on her arm felt so far away. It was so dark outside, even the bright flashes of lightening seemed to come through a haze. She tried to shift, to do anything as he pulled again. It didn't matter. They'd fought long enough, it seemed.


	2. The Truth- 2

Death was not the tight pull of cotton sheets. She'd done it before: stark memories, a shot of pain, and then nothing.

She blinked, struggling to move though her limbs felt leaden. The bed–it was definitely a bed–was soft, sparse, and warm. There was a nightstand and lamp, shuttered windows and a single shaft of hazy red light. The room was alien, like a hospital ward or value hotel.

The sheets were tucked tight around her form in a cocoon, and the resulting difficulty made her swear. The whole mess made her swear. Swearing, suddenly, was her favorite pastime.

Wouldn't her mothers be amused?

The frail girl shoved the offending blankets aside, forced her tired, aching body to shift until the mattress fell away. Then there was only floor and more pain. She choked on it all, trying to remember anything but her walk to the cliffs. The feel of the kitchen drawer on her fingers, the flare of power from her crystal over the beds of her family. The tears had left a weight on her face she couldn't bear to forget.

They'd been so peaceful.

Tired hands slipped across the carpet, searching for anything that might be close. It was so dark, and her eyes wouldn't adjust for some reason. It took every ounce of energy she had to crawl blindly away. The carpet soon came to an end: a blank wall, a corner. She sobbed, so tired. Her forehead pressed into the double wall, cradling her aching skull and offering a slight distraction from the rest.

Her hair felt strange. Curiously, the braided tail was pulled tight against her from across the floor, secured with a rubber band that would hurt like hell when she tried to pull it out.

Her clothes smelled like a boy.

The creak of a door broke the thought, flooded the room in hazy yellow light from the hall. She shuddered, afraid to turn and see who she'd somehow ended up with. She knew, even before the familiar build came into view. That smell, beneath his cologne, beneath the wafting scent of roses that followed him in a cloud, it was the scent of him.

And, oh gods, it was the best damn smell in the world.

"Hey," he murmured just loud enough for her to hear. The sound of his voice crashed through her soul like a tank, rolling over her, and firing deep into her heart to explode in a gush of pain and despair. The scene at the cliffs slowly began to fade forward, cold and heartbreaking.

She'd been so close. The sobs began, shaking free of her ribs, off her chest in waves. It had been so close to perfect….

Teary eyes blinked, dripping misery and self-loathing. Her fingers sought the painless flesh of her forearm, but the smooth skin answered back without a flaw. Had it been a dream? Had she imagined shredding her arm in a single quick pull? It couldn't have been. She'd been so careful in her plans, erased the memory from her parents and brother, and replaced her room with her mother's sewing machine.

There had been no note. There would be no one to mourn her. She deserved it.

Fingers spread across her back, tugged the solid braid from her shoulder. She shuddered away from that touch, from the agony it sent spinning into her chest. He wasn't hers! She shouldn't be here, she should be a pile of wave-beaten meat at the bottom of the cliffs with no identity.

"Oi, Usagi."

"Why?" she hiccupped, pressing herself deep into the protective embrace of her corner, wishing she could bash herself against the wall with enough force to splatter brain cells across the surface of it. "Why!"

He must have cleaned her. She'd been soaked and muddied and everything else all at once. The long, long braid at her back had been shampooed and brushed; it still felt a bit damp. She gulped, hating how violated she felt. He'd changed her clothes, he'd seen her fat, mottled body. It was humiliating.

There was only the thought of him disgusted by what he saw: the scars on her skin where Youma had taken their bites, where she'd hurt herself in the hopes of feeling something. They weren't healed yet. It had been barely a week in between, and he'd seen everything. As if thinking she was a worthless human being weren't bad enough, it was the final pathetic show of weakness.

"Usa, please." The voice called by her shoulder, the breath smoothed across her arm. She hated that the skin stood at attention, reaching toward him so hard that the sensation caused her pain.

Her forehead pressed against the wall until the spots began to swim in her eyes. Why him? Wasn't it enough to know she could never mean anything to him? Hadn't the fates had their pound of flesh waiting to fall into the abyss? Why pull her out? Why save her? The world would be so much better, would be so much brighter, if she had never existed.

Strong hands gripped her arms and pulled. Her exhausted, shivering body couldn't fight back as one arm slung around his shoulder, and her form lifted easily from the floor. She tried not to feel the bunch and ripple of muscle beneath his shirt, tried to push the memories of his naked form from her mind. It was so hard though. The exhaustion bled her will until there was nothing left but the memories.

He settled her carefully back amongst the pillows, drew the blankets up around her neck. Her eyes sought anything but him. It would be too hard to finish it later, when he'd turned his back. He'd chosen the wrong time to remember his princely manners, to set aside the cold, taunting upperclassman's mask. The kindness would haunt her in the final moments. She would regret.

"Usagi-chan, I've ordered a pizza," he tempted quietly, his voice even and smooth. She shook her head. His hands smoothed the blankets beneath her chin, pulled the long braid of hair away from her shoulder. "Sorry about this. I couldn't figure out the…the odangos."

"You should have left me," she whispered into the covers, squeezing her eyes tight in the hopes that it would scrub the sight of him away.

"Never." His tone was so kind, so soft. "What would I do without Odango Atema?"

It shouldn't hurt anymore. How many times could a heart possibly break? As much as she had fought the nickname, it meant he noticed her, that he used his wit on her. The thought had her shuddering, sobbing uncontrollably and shoving his hands away. His weight left the bed and she buried herself in the blankets, hoping only that he would leave and let her be alone.

It was a long night. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling through tear-smothered eyes. It was the worst night she'd ever spent. Even sobbing alone on her bed while her family slept on without knowing had been better than this. At least then, she could comfort herself in the idea that he hated her. The scent of him practically filled every inch of his sparse room, and he'd saved her from death for some unknowable reason. Why? Why couldn't she just continue believing that it was never meant to be? At least then, when he chose to marry his brunette, it wouldn't hurt so badly.

Dawn came. It was a bloody mess of light splattered on white walls. Her dry, itching eyes couldn't cry anymore. Outside the bedroom door, he was cooking. The smell of bacon and pancakes should have been a temptation. When was the last time she'd eaten, again? After that day on the street, seeing him with another girl, it just didn't matter anymore.

Back, before this life had begun, her diet had been so restricted. What princess could possibly earn her keep if she wasn't thin and lovely? How could she hope for a favorable political marriage if no one saw her as beautiful? Maybe that's why she ate so much now, in defiance of it all. She'd just wanted to enjoy her life.

Even that seemed like a waste of time now. Endymion had always been a meticulous planner. The old world had been a terrifying labyrinth of political intrigue; getting away from the others had been such a challenge before he'd stepped in with a plan. Knowing this, Usagi hadn't bothered to search the room for something suitable. Mamoru would be the same, would have gone over every inch of the place just to make sure she had nothing to use when she woke.

It left only one option, and it had to be done before she lost her nerve.

Her joints were sore. Lifting herself out of bed seemed worse than it had yesterday. She'd been so out of it that the only pain had been hitting the floor in a heap. The doorknob was cold in her hand. As the light of the living room finally washed across her, there was a moment of confusion, a moment of silence before he was there, standing in front of her with his brows knit tight.

"Feeling better?"

The question shouldn't have hurt. His hand was reaching for her shoulder, and she couldn't help but shy away from him and his concern. It was staged. They both knew it.

"I need to leave." It was a statement, though her voice was shaking. He was blocking the doorway and heavily shadowed. The light from the balcony smashed across the wall behind him, across the door. She could make it, if she slipped beneath his arm.

Outside, rain began to pour against the windows, the sun hid behind the clouds. Now was the time.

"No." The blond dove, hating that her shoulder hit his side, hating that his hand gripped her arm in a vice. "I said no!"

She was panting, trying not to feel his hands on her. He was strong, but the fingers barely held the pressure to her arm. Though her eyes should be empty from the long night, that same frustration was welling into tears. Didn't he realize how important this was? Didn't he want her gone just as much as the enemy?

"Let me go," she ground through clenched teeth, tugging at his fingers in the vain hope he would back down. It was pointless. Once he had something in his sights, nothing could keep him from it. Even if it was torturing her. Maybe, especially if it was.

"Why, so you can pull another stunt behind my back? No way." The storm outside was growing, skies darkening and street lamps flickering on. It gave her something else to look at, to focus on.

"You should have left me." Her voice was so quiet, barely a whisper. The steady thrum of rain against the windows nearly drown out the sound of her. Already, the raging storm was growling, as the ocean had. She shuddered, forcing her eyes away from him, from even his feet. What did it matter? What did anything matter?

His grip tightened, just a fraction. He was being so careful not to hurt her.

"Stop. Just stop with the drama." His anger sizzled between them. She shuddered, taking a step back toward the safety of the bedroom. With that move, he had no choice but to release his grip on her arm. He was seething. The feel of it mimicked the rainstorm, steadily pounding into her being with the drive of a nail gun. Her arms ached and she clamped cold fingers around them to ward off the pain.

"You don't understand," she began, forcing her gaze downward.

"What exactly am I supposed to understand? Suicide? Is that the best you could do?" The booming, growling voice from above did nothing for her nerves. Even as thunder began to roll across the sky, as she shivered in terror from another life, that voice burned through it all. He hated her.

"I was always meant for it." Even from the past, their few short months together, she should have known she was sealing her fate. It had taken moments to fall when their eyes met. Nothing that good, that perfect, actually existed. Once it all came clear, she should have known it was her soul she was trading. A few weeks of bliss.

An eternity of torment.

"Not to get metaphorical here, but technically everyone is–eventually. You're not exactly supposed to go looking for it." He crossed his arms, his large build blocking the doorway. He missed his broadsword, the way his hips tilted just barely to the side. She shuddered, clenching both eyes shut at the memory of those hips.

He didn't understand. If he could just see how logical it all was, if she could scrape her thoughts together long enough to make an argument, he would even agree. The man was methodical, entirely rational. Certainly, if he knew her death would fix things for everyone, he wouldn't stand in the way. He wouldn't try to stop the inevitable.

"If you could stop the attacks on the city, return everything to the way it was before, would you?" She blinked, finally turning her gaze up at him. He could never refuse a girl in distress, she knew that. It wasn't her fault that she was taking advantage of it, he was being so wasn't her fault he was being so stubborn. "I need to do this, Mamoru-san. Please understand."

"So…what, you're what they're after or something? That doesn't even…."

His jaw slackened mid thought, and the man trudged forward just enough to grip her face in his hand. The feel of his fingers made her want to cry, made her eyes fill with tears and finally spill down like weights against her cheeks. The flickering indigo gaze followed every inch of her face, locked against her own.

"Lavender…" he murmured quietly, and suddenly she knew the truth. Apparently, so did he. "P-princess?"

She shuddered visibly, strange eyes flickering closed. She shouldn't have said anything! She never should have chosen a place so close to town, if anything, a bus ticket up north was a few meager yen. She was an idiot! Now he knew, and now she had worth.

Because she wasn't Usagi.

Even though Usagi couldn't ever be Serenity.

"I have to leave." She tried again, wrenching her face free of him. The heaving weight on her chest seemed to grow as the knowledge hit home. Perhaps he didn't remember her at all, but now it would be impossible to leave. Now, he would want to know everything.

She couldn't even handle the shame of it.

"No. No! You can't…holy…. I have to get in touch with Moon. Sit down, you're not going anywhere." He came forward again to push her down on the bed, but the second blow knocked the wind from her, left the pale, shivering mess in tears. The mention of her most recent failure carved deep. She never should have tried to be one of them.

She never should have lived.

"Please…" she shivered helplessly, words beginning to fail. There was no point in hiding it now. He would figure out that she was the useless Moon warrior, he would know he'd wasted his nights trying to help someone he should have just let fall. She hiccupped, clenching herself into a ball on the mattress. "If I go, they won't come back. There won't be anything to…tempt them."

"No," he growled, his fists clenching tight at his side.

"Mamo…."

"I said no!" he screamed, finally unleashing all the hate he'd held for her since the beginning. The thought made her sob, forced her face deep into the shelter of her arms. "Damn it, Usagi-chan! Listen to yourself! There's a better way, there always is."

She didn't answer. Even if she had, he was beyond listening at this point. She'd hesitated too long, standing on the edge of that cliff. If her hand had fallen faster, if she'd stepped a little closer to the edge, they wouldn't be having this conversation. He wouldn't be screaming at her as if she'd done something wrong.

It didn't make any sense. Why was he angry? She was just trying to make things right again, go back to the cold nothing between lives and take with her the evil invading from another plane.

"One life for many," she whispered, barely able to made the sounds. He paused on his way out the door. "I wasn't really using it anyway."

.

….

Welcome back! Well, I mean, to weekly updates…. Sometimes I get a little sidetracked, but here's bit 2!

Don't worry, I have the rest of Sleeping Death planned out, I won't forget about it!

HUGE love and thanks to slightlyxjaded for looking these over! You're the BOMB!

E


	3. The Truth-3

It had been raining for days now. A sad tribute to a spring that just wouldn't leave things alone, the water plagued almost as much as the company. He was standing in the kitchen, looking over the bar at her. She didn't need to pull her gaze from the outside world to know it. He never seemed to look away.

Part of it may be her refusal to wear his clothes. It was bad enough to sleep in his bed, smothered in the scent, forced to dream of their nights spent tangled together. The blankets became his cloak. The pillow became his soft hands in her hair. It was bad enough to wake up aching for a connection she'd never have, but to wear his clothes during the day? She hadn't brought any of her own, for obvious reasons. He'd offered to buy her some that first morning, so she could feel at home. It hadn't helped.

The only other option available had been her transformation brooch or her princess clothes. It hadn't taken much for him to put her together with his nighttime charge. He already knew, so what was the point of wearing a ridiculously short skirt? He'd already seen her disgusting naked body, so what was the point of worrying about something so childish? In the end, it was more functional, more comfortable to just give in and wear the stupid dress.

She tried not to hate him for it.

"Talk to me. It's been days." The timber of his voice never ceased to shake her to the bone. Even on the streets, fighting like children, he always seemed to leave her trembling and breathless. It should have been her most obvious clue when he'd tauntingly called her "Odango Atema" for the first time.

Instead it had just been awkward.

She shrugged, leaning her head against the glass. The buns felt more natural than the braid, though he had admitted to looking instructions up online to save another round of brushing. She should be grateful he'd taken the time. Instead, her face pressed to the glass, her fingers tangled in cream carpet, and nothing came out.

"I've never seen the great Odango Atema quiet before. It's weird." The sound of his footsteps left the tile floor, but still beat a steady rhythm into her palms as he crossed to her side. She didn't dare look up at him. With the change in her eye color, the radical shift into her Lunarian clothing, all he ever did was stare at her. She was the image of Serenity. Even those memories felt like a smoking ember as the past slowly surfaced day by day. There were no friends to quiet the terrible screams, the guilt. No one had called.

She didn't think they would.

He settled into the carpet, placed a plate of steaming food at her side. She hadn't touched anything since coming though. If he could lock away the knives, the bathroom plug, then she could protest in her own way. Besides, all eating would do is prolong the torture. She could live without more of that.

"I started it. The war." The sound of her own voice shocked her. It felt as if someone else had said it, someone else who was owning up to her mistake. She blinked, flicking soft lilac eyes his direction, but the face was complacent as always. The slow, crusty glide of fear slid along her spine, made her hair stand at attention. For which, she couldn't tell. He was sitting too close, waiting for her to recount a story that only seemed like pain now.

"Tell me," he urged quietly, his food left steaming and forgotten in his lap. It was so quiet in this apartment. Even the neighbors must be dead. The shiver broke across her at the thought, and she turned away again, wishing she could scrub the bloody images from her memory.

"I should pay for it." Again, they came without her knowledge, again they told only the truth. Tears felt so overdone, so pitiful and worthless after the last few days. Still, they glided down her face and dripped into gauzy white fabric. She didn't bother to try and wipe at them. The mess was so familiar at this point that it was odd not to cry anymore.

"No, you should rest and get better. Get out of your head." He didn't try to touch her, she noted. After the first few days of pulling away, he seemed to have given up that much. For once, the knowledge left a little sting. A part of her ached for his comfort, his companionship. The other knew it would lead to nothing but more pain, more misery. Perhaps, she worried more for him.

Now he was looking at her. Now, he would feel obligated. It wasn't the first time she swore to herself never to mention their past together, never to say they'd known each other before. Even the identity of Tuxedo Kamen she kept locked away where he couldn't see.

But those memories were bubbling up in a heap of words too broken to string together. The terror of her first night, the thrill of rebellion as she slid to the grass on Earth. This world had been so breathtaking by moonlight. The flowers hung heavy with scent, the sounds of alien birds singing low in the trees had been more than charming.

Intoxicating.

Sinful.

"I started it. I left the palace without permission, came to earth. I just…wanted to see the flowers. I wanted to be normal." This time, as she spoke, it felt more real, more immediate. Her eyes stared sightlessly at the ground, lost to the feel of warm summer wind, the taste of night so heartbreaking that the memory itself made her homesick. It was sad to realize that illness was not for her mother, nor her friends who had guarded her since childhood.

"So…what? You're saying a planet died because of flowers? Must have been the queen's garden or som…oh…." The realization flew across his brow as she glanced up again. It was hard not to find some amusement at his quick thinking. He'd always seemed almost supernatural in the way his mind quickly tore through the pretense. He would have made a great king.

"Even that doesn't make sense. Wars don't get started for something that petty, Usagi-chan. Not unless you took something you shouldn't have." The slap left her flinching away, turning back to the scene of vines crawling up the side of the building. The red buds were swaying in the breeze, the thick greenery locking the door in place. "You stole a flower?"

Ironic that he should make that connection. It would be easy to skirt the issue, pretend nothing really had happened. That part of her soul that still yearned for more was screaming, aching to open up and tell him everything all at once. The rest of her felt so bitter and broken. What good could it possibly do? It's not like it would make him love her, or change the past, or even make these feelings go away. It was just desperation. It was killing her to keep it all hidden away.

"Yes." The whisper was soft. The strange eyes flickered closed again, her head fell forward to rest against her knees. Her gaze stilled against the bud trailing outside the window, pulling from it the memory of his first gift. "A red rose. They don't exist on my planet, and this one," she licked at her lips tiredly, willing the image of her prince away. "Dark, deep, strong, and so beautiful. So…mysterious," her voice faded, the thought of him almost too much to handle. His eyes, always so warm, stretching across her face, his fingers at her jaw, his haunting, earthy taste. She shuddered, pushing the memories back.

"So…not a flower," he whispered. She didn't turn back, didn't want to see where his thoughts led him. The fear was clenching in her gut, forcing her muscles taunt as the silence continued. "A boy? A prince maybe?"

In one, swift thought, that soft part of her soul that begged for him to figure it out was silenced. A terrified gasp of air hit her lungs like ice, and even sitting, the world felt like it was falling to the side. She didn't look. She couldn't. The fear of being caught for her crimes, judged by him of all people, was worse than death. Even the crushing pain at the end was better than this.

"I can see how that might not have worked out so well," he mused quietly. "Tale as old as time. Forbidden love."

She was imagining the bitter turn in his voice. It wasn't real. He loved someone else. The tears began to flood again. She never should have mentioned it, never should have admitted there was more to the story. Her hands were clenched tight across the fabric of her dress, white at the knuckles and aching. She shuddered.

"When I was young, my parents died in a car accident. I don't remember them." He paused for a moment, the shift of clothing the only hint he was leaving. The confession shattered against her mind on repeat, forced her out of her shell just enough to risk a glance at him. "Just because something terrible happened doesn't mean it's your fault. You loved someone. There's nothing wrong with that."

He was walking away. Mindless to help, her fingers fled to the carpet, aching for the touch of him. How…how could someone like him be forced to carry such a burden? It felt…cheap to remember how she'd chosen to give her family away when he couldn't even remember his. The stuttering heart in her chest rammed against the ribs, nearly broke through bone to go to him, find some way to lift that terrible weight….

"Did you marry him?"

She blinked at the question, tugged so suddenly from her thoughts that it was hard to remember what she'd been thinking. He was pulling a blanket from the hallway closet, unwrapping the plain fabric as he walked toward her again. His voice seemed so quiet, so lifeless. After talking about his parents, though, of course he would be sad.

It was settled over her shoulders, his fingers brushing skin. The heady mix of scratchy wool in shifting gauze was nothing compared to that touch, to the softness of his deep blue eyes. Had he asked something? Did she really not remember anything before he stood so near? She sucked a deep breath, pulled the blanket from his fingers and settled back against the sliding glass door.

They were getting too close. It wasn't fair because he was crawling beneath her skin, driving her mad just by existing. She was the first to turn away, to gather her thoughts together again.

"N-no. He was engaged." The quick risk of a glance his way revealed an amused smile, the subtle twist of his brow. It wasn't the reaction she was hoping for. After all, no good woman would ever do such a thing. No one could be so selfish, so completely egotistic as to think that all things were rightfully hers. As if daring him to continue being amused, the final blow fell. "Her name was Beryl."

"Gods. This is all…some…love triangle? A whole planet was destroyed because of a love triangle?" The dark blue eyes grew wide, the amusement scattered. She shifted finally, allowing the discomfort to bleed across her like an accusation. It was strange to realize how badly she wanted him to hate her. "I thought Twilight was bad."

Any other moment, any other lifetime, she would have laughed at the jibe. It was so like him to make some clever connection like that to try and amuse her. Right now, though, it felt rushed and confusing. Mamoru was not Endymion, despite how similar they seemed. For one, that darkness that seemed to follow Mamoru like a cloud had never hung over his head in the past. It was exactly like Usagi and Serenity.

"Can't say I wouldn't be the same. Beryl loved him. She had him first."

"No offense, Usagi-chan, but I highly doubt that. Given the choice myself, there's really no competition." He flicked a speck of lint from his pant leg, but the embarrassment was pretty evident. Just as he had in the past, the tips of his ears were red. "She's got teeth like a shark, and her boobs are too much like... bowling balls. I really can't see someone choosing to sleep with her."

"And here I thought that's what all guys wanted." It seemed ironic that boobs were the deciding factor in all of it. Mamoru was obviously much shallower these days.

"Depends," the red of his ears deepened as he spoke, spreading slowly to his face. "I prefer a peach shape, myself." He was staring at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. She tried to think back to that moment outside the café. Did his brunette have that shape? Is that why he seemed so embarrassed?

"So he chose you and Beryl went off the deep end. What now? You're both here."

Usagi shifted uncomfortably, pulling the dress closer. Every wasted second lent the enemy more and more strength. She and Beryl seemed locked against each other and she wondered if the redhead even remembered the past well enough to know why. She wondered if that witch remembered the moment they both lost everything. The moment her sword slid through his chest with a soft little squish….

"My fault. He died protecting me and I…couldn't…." He had fallen back into her arms, weight bearing her down to her knees. "He died in my arms. Bled out." The sludgy iron red made her grip slide, made his beautiful face fall back into her lap splattered and stained. He was already dead, and the mess was soaking into her skirt, into her hands. She gulped, remembering the hard smell and the horror that ended every other thought. "There was so much blood."

The screams of the dying called through the mist. She'd screeched, so long and loud it deafened even the sounds of battle. Her fingers pulled the hair from his face, tried to wake him though she already knew. He was gone. Everything she had ever wanted had been ripped away in one selfless moment. Why shouldn't she join him? What was there left to live for when she had already failed to keep him safe? There was nothing left.

"So you dusted yourself off, kicked her ass, and lived happily ever after," he replied blithely, mouth twisted in a smirk. She blinked, realizing somehow that even lost in the memory, her eyes had pulled to his face, as if he was dying now and she could somehow stop the inevitable. She licked her lips, realized how shaken the memory left her. The sharp bolt of pain, the final gasp as the sensation of blood poured into her lungs.

"I put his sword through my chest." Her fingers traced the phantom sensation just above her breast. It was strange to wonder now, but hadn't she torn the skin here that night on the cliffs? Shouldn't she be bandaged? There wasn't even a scar, as if her attempt had been too pathetic to make one.

"You really were going to do it." His shocked mutter seemed out of place. The warm blood on her arms that night was just as real as the weight of that broadsword clenched in her fist. It wasn't imagined; he must have seen how serious she really was. The edge was so close to her icy cold feet, the bite of the knife against her skin was not a simple hallucination. Though her body didn't seem to bear the marks, of course he'd taken it seriously. Why else would she wake up in his home, with nothing capable of inflicting a significant wound within reach?

She nodded.

"I don't understand why that would fix anything. He's dead, it's not like she could bring him back!" His explosion rocked her from her thoughts. He was launching to his feet, eyes uncharacteristically hot. She sucked a tight breath into her lungs, watched as his features shifted just enough to betray his thoughts. "She could. He's here. Oh gods…"

His hand wiped tiredly at his face. The anger so evident just moments before was beginning to surge forward again, and the weight of his gaze fell like a scythe against her own.

"Who is he?" he snapped, coming to stand in front of her like a mountain.

"Does it…"

"I want a name." The rage sliced through her deflection as if it never existed. She turned away, clenching her teeth so tightly that her skull began to ache. He demanded again, "Did he do this?"

She was silent, belligerent. Even in the face of his wrath, there was nothing either one of them could do to change what was bound to happen–what had already happened. He knew too much.

"I'll kill him."

The decisive little snort was everything both her mothers had tried to train out of her. It was odd to somehow still be capable of amusement at the thought of him fighting a mirror. It would certainly be a show, Endymion with his sword and Mamoru with his roses and cane. Her poor protector wouldn't stand a chance.

"He didn't do anything."

"What then? You don't just go from being bouncy and ridiculous to killing yourself in two days, Odango. Explain. You just found out? You just put it all together? What changed?" His rough bark felt accusatory. The anger was rising up again, furious at having to defend herself and her actions. She was trying to do the right thing!

"Why do you care? Just go back to your books! Leave me be!" The only reason he was even angry was because he couldn't understand how significant her death would be. Probably driven by some new-world morality about the meaning of life, he was accusing her of more than just drama. It was so like him–that bit that always seemed to drive her insane no matter how much she loved him.

"Yeah, go all tragic princess on me! Like that will make me go away!" he snapped back, so angry his shoulders were shaking.

"You should have let me go! You should have just gone home! Why did you bring me here? To torture me? You think I like knowing so many people died because I was selfish? You think…"

"It had nothing to do with you! Beryl is insane and I'd put money on this mess being her fault, not yours!" He spoke as if he could possibly know. He said those words as if his thoughts were bias memory rather than assumption. Why? Why couldn't he just admit she was no better than a harlot? How could he look the charges straight in the face, knowing how selfish and irresponsible she'd been, and still place the blame elsewhere?

"I stole him! He belonged to someone else!" she cried, pulling herself tighter still. Here she sat, coated in a scarlet letter so broad that no one could say she was without fault. Even if he hadn't been Beryl's, she'd acted against her own people, against her planet, her friends, her mother, her queen. She should be tried for treason, burned and cast into the sea like the traitor she was.

It would have been a more merciful punishment than this.

"Did he?" The soft question pulled her up short. "Usa, did he really? Did he love Beryl? Ever?" His eyes were so blue. The dark, shuttered depths were roiling like a storm despite how quiet his voice was. The tall figure was bunched and tight, his shoulders rolled up against his neck as if to protect himself.

It hurt to realize she posed a threat, but the pain was smothered by a macabre sort of success.

"It doesn't matter."

It really didn't. Finally, he was beginning to see her for what she was: a danger to everyone around her, a liability. How long until that thought festered into hate? How long would it be before those eyes turned away with disdain?

She turned back toward the outside world, hoping the strong vines would wither once he put it all together. The balcony was not a cliff in the middle of nowhere, but it would certainly do the trick from this height.

She wished he hadn't known of her plans. The morning after the storm, he'd tried to break the ice with an apology. Why he'd been at the cliffs so late was easily explained once she knew of the strange bond. Tuxedo Kamen hadn't been a part of the conversation, but it was like painting a portrait. There was some link pulling them together, something that helped him know when she was in danger.

Even with that, it hadn't been enough...

"She starts a war. You just want to die. I guess neither of you got him this time."

She didn't turn back. There was still the subtle hope he would release the balcony door. The vision of that soft look on his face, staring at the brunette across the table hurt like hellfire. It seemed appropriate.

"He chose someone else." She focused on that memory, trying to squeeze her heart so tight from the inside that it might explode. He chose someone else and their fights had changed in an instant. Mamoru had become more than an upperclassman, more than a hope. He'd become a sentence. One she would have to bear alone until fate finally let go long enough to fix the problem.

"Fickle bastard. You shouldn't waste your tears on him." She almost didn't register his bitter voice, so lost to it all as that moment grew fresh in her mind. Every detail had etched into her brain with acid.

"She's beautiful," the quiet girl murmured, trying to defend him and his choice. If nothing else, it would show his improved taste. There was no mistaking the college textbooks, the sharp and elegant clothing the woman had worn. "Long brown hair, big green eyes, freckles."

"Don't torture yourself over it. He's not worth it," he tried again, but it was useless. Why he cared at all was still a mystery, one she had no intention of figuring out. It would just bring more questions, more pain. She was done with it all. He paced on the carpet behind her, the sound of his clothing certainly enough to hint that his hand was rubbing the back of his neck; his jaw was tight in thought. She didn't need to look. It was all there, playing out in her mind.

"You know, we could just hand the idiot over," he offered.

"Never." Venom dripped from her sharp retort. Even the idea of Metallia's puppet with her claws in Mamoru was enough to chill the blood. He may have been right about the political engagement; Endymion certainly never loved the power-hungry redhead. Without his memories and his full powers, he would fall like the rest of humanity. It had been the one saving grace of the past.

"You still love him." The scoff seemed disbelieving, perhaps even angry. It was a curious reaction. She turned back toward him, wondering how he could have possibly thought otherwise.

"I have no choice." She blinked, pausing to take a deeper breath. The soft violet gaze turned away then, afraid that bit of truth would shatter the flimsy mask she'd draped over their past. "I loved him the moment we met. Just like last time." It was inevitable. Did he see she would always be the weaker of them? If her soul were caught after every death, sent back here to earth where he could be, it would always end the same for her. There simply was no one else.

He turned away from her finally. The broad length of his shoulders were tense. With his eyes tucked securely away, she traced the lines of his back, the muscled frame and arms like an addict. It was okay because he would never be hers again. She could soak in that perfection just a little bit longer, taste the soft sorrow he always seemed to carry.

It was easy to see the mark of his past, now that she knew. Her heart ached for him and that he should have to live so alone. Perhaps they'd both been given their punishments. It wasn't his fault though! What had he done to deserve so much sorrow? She was the one who came to him! She was the daughter of a goddess, glowing light and power and everything else. He'd just been a human. He shouldn't have to pay for something he could barely control!

"There's something I don't get in all this. How is it this guy just…chooses someone else?" His words grew in strength as he turned again. The deep midnight eyes were burning with confusion and rage, slicing through her as if he could somehow glean the information from her skull.

"I…"

"No, really," he barged on, tone smothering the pathetic attempt. "He actually looked at you and thought 'maybe no'? What an idiot!" The scathing disdain in his voice dried the air from her. Perhaps she didn't know him as well as she thought, because this level of volcanic emotion had never happened before. The closest thing to this rage was the memory of Beryl's final offer and his cynical, if not outright cruel, reply.

Still, the flooding room felt thick with his anger, his frustration. He'd yelled the morning after, but there had never been this much straight intensity in his voice, in his face. She shivered, pulling herself full against the cold glass.

"He loved Serenity," she squeaked finally, hoping the explanation could appease him.

"So, what, Tsukino Usagi's not good enough for him? Sailor Moon's not good enough? The guy's obviously a complete moron!" He was actually screaming. She felt the blood rush from her face, the tremor of fear freeze across her shoulders.

"But–"

"What? What the hell could he possibly–"

"He doesn't remember!" The tears were coming again, hot and frustrated. She couldn't understand what was happening or why.

"That doesn't matter! If he loved you ever, if he even met you, I would think he'd throw himself at your feet. He would beg!" The man shook his head, breathed deeply to steady himself again. The violent shaking of his hands eased and the suffocating air began to lighten. She gulped finally, allowed her chest to rise and fall again. A tired scoff burst from his mouth while he turned away. "He probably thinks you're too damn good for him."

Silence stretched between them while the last words played on repeat in her head. Mamoru was still fuming, brain churning though he didn't say another word. The frantic, terrified beating in her chest slowed inch by inch as the quiet continued. She couldn't look away.

He sounded…possessive. Perhaps she'd imagined the bitterness in his voice from earlier, but there was no mistaking the tone. The agony and terror raged equally within because it wasn't right–because he'd chosen someone else. How dare he use that tone knowing how things were between them! Didn't he realize how cruel it was to say those things, to speak that way, and know he himself would never think those things of her!

"It doesn't make sense. Usagi," he licked at his lips, risking a glance at her finally. "I…would…"

"Don't!" she snapped, just as darkly as he had before. "Don't you dare. I know you hate me. I've always known. Don't cheapen yourself with lies." She was tired of this stupid game, tired of being tugged every direction by someone who only saw her as an amusing distraction. The pity felt ragged and dirty. He was saying this only because he thought it would help bring her back from the edge. It was much too late for that.

Filled with this hatred, this pain, she turned back toward the window and set her head on her knees. Never in all the time she'd known him had he stooped so low. And even if it were somehow true, it would be the same as the past. He belonged to someone else and the only person capable of changing that was her. Again. The harlot. The thief. All for some false prior claim that meant nothing because he hadn't come to her willingly.

She was just as bad as Beryl had ever been, perhaps worse. At least her enemy wore the truth like a gown, while Usagi did nothing but hide behind a mask.

"I don't hate you." His soft whisper was loaded with grief. She didn't turn, didn't want to see him again. If only this stupid door would open, if the end would just come to her already! Her captor shuffled just beyond her vision. It wasn't enough to pull her back. "You really think I do?"

The gauzy hem of her skirt wiped angry tears away. She reached for the cold coming from outside, remembered every terrible thing he'd ever said to her. That night on the cliffs, when he'd ruined everything, still burned when she thought of it.

"Of course you do. Why else would you keep me here?" Her voice was thick and slurring, so pained it didn't even matter anymore to admit it out loud. Her fingers sought the cold wooden handle. Of course it didn't budge. She smothered the growing sob as quietly as possible. He was already moving toward her, warm hands gently tugging her fingers away.

"But we…." He knelt down by her feet, the dark eyes forced so far down even his face didn't show. "I thought," he tried again, barely risking a shy glance up at her. She clenched her eyes shut, trying to force the sound of his voice from her mind. He choked, pulled completely away again. "Never mind. You already said…"

There was a moment of quiet, followed quickly by the sound of his bedroom door slipping shut.

.

.

…

A soft click pulled her from the cold, damp realms of sleep. Her stiff back was frozen against the glass, hair mussed and clinging to everything. She blinked, rubbing at her itchy eyes. It was dark out. Hours must have passed since their heated discussion. The moon had hidden away in the clouds and the dark room felt alien and cold. Her eyes searched the darkness without recognition, without clear thought.

He was walking toward her. The tired shuffle of his feet slid across the carpet, around the couch until he stood above her. The heat from his legs forced her skin upright and felt like the lick of hellfire. She shivered, the frozen twist of muscles screamed painfully in the process.

"I need to say something." His bulk settled into the carpet beside her, so close that the muscles of his arm pressed against her knee. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to flinch to. "I know…how pathetic it must sound after your…past," he gulped unevenly, face turned down away from her. There was a sarcastic twist to his mouth.

"Usa…Usako," he licked his lips, shifted to take her face between both hands and lean close. It should have been impossible to see the color of his eyes in the dim light, yet there had never been such a preternatural blue as the gaze that pierced hers. He was nervous–mouth shifting at the corner as if the words he would say somehow hurt to share. "I couldn't ever hate you." The deep indigo gaze spread across her face momentarily before he spoke again, as if he were looking for answers long before there had been a question. "I love you."

She gasped, as if it had been a slap rather than a confession. He blinked away in that moment, but didn't move to leave.

"And I know you love him. It's okay, Odango. I get it."

Wordlessly, her mouth moved; the seconds ticked by while that thought destroyed everything else. He was forcing his breath steady, the fingers against her jaw were shaking. It wasn't true. It couldn't be.

It couldn't be.

"The reason that I…can't let you leave is because, Tsukino Usagi, I can't," he gulped, pausing just long enough to look back at her. "I mean, we can't afford to lose you. Usako, you are exactly what this world needs desperately. If everyone could feel your light, your love and passion and sweetness, I know it would affect every single person. I know you are what will heal this planet. Until you see that…" His thumbs brushed the tear tracks crusting to her face. "If he can't, then there's no hope for him. He's blind. He'd have to be."

Those eyes touched every inch of her face as he spoke, so warm and yet so hopeless. It wasn't possible. It wasn't true. But his face was tired and downcast, his shoulders stooped. He looked defeated from within. It was as if he could mirror what she felt herself.

"You can't…." The words plugged her thoughts into silence. Despite the pain so evident in his posture, he smiled. The action nearly drove her from consciousness.

"I do." His smile grew warm within the sorrow. His gaze never wavered from hers. The tired, worn out tears were dripping from her eyes for the millionth time, spread down his trembling hands as he brushed them gently away. "I'm no prince, but," a self-mocking laugh broke his thoughts, "stay here, with me, until you're strong again. I'll protect you."

It wasn't true. It couldn't be. The vision of his smile that day on the street, the way he'd looked at the woman across the booth was unmistakable. She was Usagi, she was nothing! She couldn't even walk a straight line if her life depended on her, and everything she did blew up in her face! Even he could see the brunette was better! He could be so much happier with that girl and she was stealing him again!

"Don't you have a girlfriend?! That's cruel–" the accusation cut short as the face above hers drifted into confusion.

"No."

"I saw you with her!" she tried again, hating herself for making him sound unfaithful. He was perfect! He had more brains, more grace, more intelligence, more sophistication, and more worth as a human being!

"Sorry?" He actually seemed confused.

"The girl, in the café, I saw her! And you were smiling…and…and…"

"Saori?" His flickering eyes looked so dark in the light of the moon, growing soft like they had when they first met. His smile returned, just the upturned corner of his mouth. His fingers brushed the hair from her face. "She ordered a triple hot fudge sundae."

Everything went silent. Was that her heart beating, or her imagination?

She shuddered, horrified at herself. It was all a misunderstanding, then? She'd given up her family and her life because she saw a look on his face and couldn't bear the thought it hadn't been about her? She'd ripped herself apart, given up all hope, practically gave Beryl exactly what she wanted because of…a look?

And worse, the look had been because of her, Usagi. Not some princess, not a warrior. Just Usagi being Usagi.

The long months of listening to how awful she apparently was, locked against the shame of a failed life riding hard on her back made it all too real. The trembling hands clamped across her mouth, too afraid of what might come out if given a chance. Her whole frame was shaking.

And without knowing why, he gathered her against his chest, wrapped his arms around her tight and waited. When the sobs finally came, they were concussive and painful. She was drowning in the horror that somehow built the last several days of her life. How such a thing could have made so much sense seemed completely asinine now.

"M-Mamo-chan…I…I need help," she muttered finally, her words broken and pained. He was running fingers through her hair, steady and sure as he had always been. She wished that he would kiss her hair, that the arms around her shoulders would pull her tighter until she suffocated.

"Shh, I know."

It was all he offered. It was all she needed.

.

.

...

AN: Well, there's Truth. Don't worry, I've got more three-bit pieces to put up, just slowly getting them ready. I should have another installment of Sleeping DEath for next week, and if not it's just me working on other things.  
Hope everyone's having a great Friday!

Shoutouts to slightlyxjaded for editing, as per usual! She rox!

.

.

...

It was hours later when she heard him stifle an irritated groan. Curiously, the girl glanced upward, wondering if he'd somehow fallen asleep leaning back against the balcony window. It wasn't cold anymore, not while his arms were wrapped so snugly around her. It must have been just minutes before morning light; already the purple sky was warming beyond the rose-framed terrace. She shifted curiously, looking up at the man she'd once called lover, and perhaps would again soon. It was hard to see him, though, because she couldn't bear to tell the truth. It would be too embarrassing, too revealing after her pathetic attempts to end it. She didn't want him to know that her desperation flirted with the line of madness.

"Damnit, it's me!" His angered words slammed against her conscience almost as fast as his kiss. He didn't bother to hesitate or ask, just roughly pulled her up against his frame and claimed what had been his all along. Shocked, but certainly not bothered by the intrusion, Usagi met his open mouth with just as much passion, just as much fervor, heat, and need as he did.

It was probably explanation enough.


	4. Bloodline-1

Murky light slithered through branches and across the carpeted floor. The light seemed to mingle with the various objects left strewn about the room, coiling and creeping as the breeze flirted just beyond the pane of glass. Already the soft orange and pink of sunrise was beginning to stretch across the broken skyline of houses in the distance. It was dawn.

Serena sniffled quietly, the hollow feel in her chest had cried out hours ago, leaving nothing but a blessed sense of numbness. She stared out her bedroom window without sight, curled into a ball at the top of her bed. Below, Luna lay purring in her sleep, completely unaware how long the girl had been awake.

"I'm not always going to come to these things, Serena, you have to get it together!"

The sound of his irate snap still made her shudder. His hand had been tight on her arm, yanking her back from the edge of a ditch left by their enemy. It wouldn't have killed her to fall in. It hadn't been deep enough to trap her.

Of course, the circulating blade that made it had been aimed right at her when the ground exploded in a shower of dirt. If he hadn't been there…. She hiccupped, pulling back from the thought with terrified revulsion. Like he said, he wouldn't always be there.

Even though he once promised that he would.

The thought pulled her from the reverie long enough to blink, enough to check on the sleeping cat before returning to her vapid stare into oblivion. He'd promised. It was hard to believe after the rush of memories from the past, the intense, heartbreaking love they'd once shared had crumbled. How easily things change in a thousand years.

A soft gleam flickered in the corner of her eye. The girl blinked again, pushing her eyes to focus on the plain white windowsill, the familiar latch that kept the wind out, the subtle mark of her Senshi boot marring one corner from hours earlier.

The darkness of night was fleeing away, and yet a single patch seemed to hold on just beyond the pane, leaning toward her almost with a sense of desperation. She wouldn't have bothered with it, thinking perhaps some piece of litter had found its way into the branches and now lay trapped between them. The glint of water droplets lit into fire from the first true light of dawn, and with them, the room seemed to paint itself red.

She slid from the bed curiously, watching through fearful eyes as the object slowly came into view. Her brain refused to make a picture of it, the smudge of scarlet red spattered with dew, the block of something much darker standing as one beside it.

A rose. She shuddered again, pulling into herself. Darien had been here. He'd probably seen her crying, probably thought she was nothing but a child. He hadn't left her roses in so long now that the gift felt fake, like a mirage bleeding up from foundationless hope.

Carefully, she lifted the latch and pushed, felt the weight of her window give way gently. Cold wind burst across her exposed legs, but her fingers were already reaching for the gift, careful to keep it leaning against the edge of the window as she guided it inside.

The sun rose behind her now, hazy as the clouds stepped in moments later. Her hands peeled back the hard leather string that kept the rose in place, curious and afraid at what she may have found with it. Some sort of note that he would be leaving the country? The expectation that she find another protector? Or worse, some weird apology that meant nothing, because she meant nothing to him?

The thornless beauty was released at last and was settled on the edge of her vanity with nervous caution. The book, she could see what it was now, was leather-bound and soft, the pages thick against her fingers and brittle. The feel of dread felt like molten iron in the back of her throat. She smoothed long pale fingers over the cover slowly, hoping to somehow soak in the gist of the message without ever having to read it.

It was pointless, though. She'd already tried too many times with her math homework.

With a sigh of resignation, the cover was pulled back, the first brittle pages came into view, and more importantly, the first line.

 _My dearest Serena_ , it read. The words forced bile to the back of her throat, lit the broken flame of hope in her chest till it charred. She slammed the cover shut again, gagging on air and blinking tears from her eyes. How many times had she begged him to take her back? How many times before that had he chosen Rini over her?

She shuddered, afraid to see what came next. She slid the volume onto her bedsheets and turned away. There was no point reading the thing. She should shower and get ready. There was a meeting today, and Luna would want her to train later this afternoon.

"I won't always come to these things!"

The bathroom door slammed shut behind her.

.

.

….

 _My dearest Serena,_

 _How grateful I am to have found you once again. The path of life has brought us far, has it not? Much farther than we could have dreamed when we first met. Please, forgive the intrusion, and the crass use of written word when I would so much rather speak face to face. You are distraught, and so despite my desire to see you, I have kept my distance until tonight. I can no longer bear to see you in pain. I never could._

 _It seems there has been some great misunderstanding. For that, I humbly seek your forgiveness. The events of last night are regrettable. I have always promised to be with you. I swear any word to the contrary could never be true. I come to fulfil my promise, made so many years ago in a life you cannot remember yet._

 _I am telling you this, my dear, to remind you of our deep and prolonged journey through time, clinging to each other as most human souls could never do; drawing away always moments before a true reunion._

 _I still remember the first time I saw you, glowing and beautiful in the early spring. The dress was silver and gold, your skin flawless and pale. I loved how the gentle sunlight caught in flaxen hair, and made your eyes shine with perfect light. I knew then, as I have ever since, you were meant to be mine._

"Strange," Serena murmured quietly, testing the thickness of the page's edge with her thumb. She traced and retraced the familiar spidery handwriting that could only come from one man. The large hand-written tome felt so old though. It was from Darien, that much she knew instinctively, but even that was hard to believe considering what he'd said just two weeks ago, what he'd screamed last night. Even if it was from him, they'd met at night and she'd worn blue. She could still remember the reflection of her dress in his eyes.

Distractedly, she continued.

 _Please believe me, my love, when I say those first years were the happiest of my life–the only reprieve I have ever found. Had I known the end though, I never would have taken from you the path you once would have chosen. It seems we are crossed, or perhaps cursed. Our happiness is always short-lived, no matter when we meet again. We are ill-fated, forbidden. The powers of the world combine against us with deadly intention; something which I fear you may never escape_.

"Whatcha readin'?" Lita's abrupt alto voice shattered the spell and sent Serena flying out of her chair, heart pounding in her ears and mind dazed. The familiar brunette giggled, reaching for the old, dusted volume in curiosity. Blue eyes flew to her treasure, snatching it from her friend's hand moments before she could reach it.

"Holy crap, Leets, you scared the bejezus outta me!" The blond was babbling nervously, her cold hands twisting on the cover as if she could fold it in on itself. Darien never spoke like this, definitely not to her, anyway. The words had taken a deep, foreboding tone. She would rather not share the sense of dread building in her chest. Even the leather seemed to pulse in her fingertips, the otherworldly story aching to be read, to be known. She gulped.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. What is that thing?" the taller girl asked, vibrant green eyes shimmering in the summer sunlight. Her soft yellow tank top revealed the lean, muscled arms, though chocolate brown curls wrapped around them. Serena shivered, quickly shifting her eyes around the crowded streets outside the arcade with something akin to dread. Her fingers slid across the cover, felt every uneven crease in the soft brown leather binding. It seemed to whisper to her still, a quiet pleading to be kept a secret from even her closest friends. She gulped, plastering a smile on her face.

"Oh, just an old journal of dad's." The lie felt like fire on her tongue, but Lita seemed not to notice. The tall body spread itself into a wire chair loosely while both hands fumbled for her pockets.

"Hu. Must have drawn you in pretty good then." She settled on the menu at last, all traces of earlier interest vanishing with the promise of food. Serena couldn't bear the thought of staring at a bland menu though, not when there was so much more hiding within her hands, screaming in the back of her mind for attention.

She couldn't set the book down, even as she fumbled to right her chair with a free hand. The parasol above fluttered minutely in the breeze, traffic roared on beside them, the shrill cry of a hunting bird above made it all so real. She could have sworn none of it had existed since early this morning.

Sunlight sucked into dark leather, a hell-hole standing out abruptly on soft pink sheets. Even the feel of a towel wrapped around her middle, the sound of footsteps down the hall hadn't been able to break its hold over her. The only other shadow had been Luna. The cat had been preening herself wordlessly, her large cinnamon eyes taking in her charge with pity.

Maybe Luna had noticed her crying. It meant later would be laced with more speeches about wasting her time, and focusing on training and school work. If she heard one more time from the animal that she and Darien weren't meant to be, she'd scream. The girl settled into her chair solemnly, holding the book to her chest in a white-knuckle grip. It was one of the reasons she'd run out of the house this morning without even a brief explanation.

The Senshi meeting wasn't for another couple of hours, and it had taken almost that long just to open it. She'd barely managed to read through the first page before being interrupted. The others should have been here by now. It would be hours before she could peruse the volume in peace–especially if anyone else caught her with it.

"Are we the only ones coming?" Serena asked finally. Her friend flicked a glance up from the menu before shrugging.

"Well, the others are finishing up with summer stuff. It's odd to be the first ones to a meeting, isn't it?"

"Y-yeah,"

They should probably order something. At least then, when the others arrived, there'd be a distraction. Cheeseburgers, pizza slices, fries and onion rings danced across the page without meaning. What was he getting at? What would be the point of reminding her about time? Hadn't they both remembered the same events a thousand years earlier? Hadn't she tried the past few months to remind him of exactly the same thing?

Maybe she could get just a bit further before the meeting.

"What's this you're hiding?" Mina snatched her gift straight from her hands from behind and had the cover open long before the other blond could tear out of her seat. The horror at being found with such a personal item out in public…if he ever found out she'd brought it with her…. She dove for it with the same desperation, almost animal in panic. A hand snatched her arm back before she could pounce. "My dearest Serena, hu? Somebody's got a secret admirer!"

Serena growled noisily, practically choking on her frustration as Raye yanked on her shoulder. The book slid too far to reach as the priestess lifted it easily from the other girl's hands. Mina took it upon herself to practically tackle her counterpart to the ground in a bear hug, successfully hauling her back again.

"It's probably just from Darien," Lita chuckled from her seat, crossing her legs and leaning back on both hands.

"No!" Amy struggled away from the group, clutching at her face in horror. The blotchy apparition of hives had already begun to grow across her cheeks and neck. It struck Serena as odd–this wasn't a love letter, it was an explanation, right? Although why he wasn't talking about the Moon Kingdom, or their nightlives seemed…odd.

Not that it was any of their business!

The firecracker squealed angrily, jumping at the book desperately while the others continued their cruel game. "That's not Darien." Raye mused softly, hefting the book again out of Serena's reach. Her soft violet eyes narrowed as she read the opening passage.

"Dad's journal my ass," Lita snorted. Serena was too busy untangling herself from Mina's clutches to feel bad about lying though.

"What do you mean it's not him? It has to be!"

"No, listen to this, Amy. 'It is with great pleasure that I encountered you again, but not as I have ever seen you…." Dark violet eyes grew wide a moment later before turning toward her again. Even Raye was blushing and closing the volume with prim, brisk movements. "This is heavy!"

The look must have sparked some sort of guilt, because the claw-like hands released instantly. Not that the model had any intention of asking forgiveness, her face was twisted in a grin of triumph that could only mean she was up to something.

"You guys! Give it back! It's none of your business!" Finally free, the blond lunged just far enough to rip the material from the priestess' hands. The package was again bundled close to her chest where their prying eyes could never see it. Raye wouldn't look at her, her face flushed and eyes staring down at the cement. Jealousy flared in her veins, anger and resentment. How dare the priestess read words she hadn't even been allowed yet? What gave them the right?

"So what's his name?" Mina chirped, flipping a chair around backward to straddle it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The blond fumed, bundling the book together and sitting on it.

"Well, it's pretty obvious someone has the hots for you."

"Pth. You're talking to the girl that got dumped by her soulmate two weeks ago, remember? What does it matter?"

"Yeah, cuz that'll last another minute or two. Come on, Serena! Go for the rebound, drive him nuts for you!"

The idea of anyone else touching her made her skin crawl though. Especially the idea that she could go on a date knowing she'd never have any interest, just to make Darien notice her again. She was capable of stooping low, but even that was just too…manipulative.

Besides, they were wrong. She knew his handwriting–hours of watching him do his homework had etched the thin, precise letters into her memory–no one else could have written it.

Well, who else would want to?

.

.

…

He was missing a meeting today. There should have been some sense of guilt for it, but it was washed away in the thought of her being there. It was still too hard to look at her. Hell, it was too hard to go to class this summer, sitting in some ridiculous hall while the professor droned on and on. She was out there, was hurting because he couldn't figure out a stupid dream. It would be one thing to just pretend like everything was fine, try to act normal even though his brain was slowly melting like cheese in the July sun. It was another entirely to know he'd hurt her, he'd lied to her.

He was losing it. The nightmares were easy to ignore at first, but continued insomnia made his days long and torturous. He'd begun to hallucinate the same events in real time. The walls of the college still shifted into a procession, an altar, despite his best efforts to force the images away. The path home was pelted in rice and glitter, with her ghostly laughter bubbling at his side. It was always the last sight though, the one thing he feared more than any other. Every dream held it: her long golden hair plastered with blood, her body torn open and eyes staring sightlessly away.

He shuddered. At least there was a scout meeting, and she was out of sight. He could relax in the relative calm of the arcade, drink his daily cup of joe, and read up on physiology. Because her being out of plain view would surely mean he could focus on any other subject. Right.

Fate was not so kind. The moment the arcade doors slid open, her long sunlight hair fluttered like a siren's call. After two weeks of trying to stay completely away, the sight of creamy legs, her short pink skirt and loose top had him drooling. The more he pulled away, the more she had him trapped against the wall, incapable of shifting any direction other than toward her. The moth, the flame…this would put him in a psych ward. Not being able to touch her or talk to her, to have to watch crystalline blue eyes flood with tears and pain every time they crossed paths was unbearable.

Lucky for him, the blond was occupied and hadn't noticed his awkward gaping just beyond the door. It was hard enough to push her away after fights, but having to explain himself this time might just be the absurd straw that broke the camel's back. She'd never believe it. She'd never believe him again.

He shoved both trembling hands into his pockets and sauntered in, trying not to look at her though the radiating warmth practically burned his side as he wandered past. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, but she was so engrossed that even her ice cream had melted in the bowl. He had to know what had her so fascinated she couldn't be bothered with sweets. He'd never had that effect on her.

 _Please, my sweet princess, meet me._

The words slid a blade through his brain as he shambled past and folded himself into a stool further down. It was some sort of romance novel. It had to be. Even though the text looked hand-written, even familiar, it was definitely not a love letter. Nope.

His fingers clenched the countertop in a white-knuckle grip. Her eyes were so wide, practically drinking every inch of the page before turning the faded brown paper with gentle fingers. The whole book was just…really old. Like, an ancient romance novel. She was addicted to them. Because she missed him.

 _Meet me_.

It wasn't an invitation. It wasn't some clever youth cashing in on her fairytale understanding of the world, and damn it, it wasn't him! Who the hell wrote her that thing? How had she gotten her hands on it, and why the hell was she reading it like it was some kind of religious text? And why, gods, why was she blushing, smiling faintly, tracing the lettering with her index finger and curious eyes?

"Woah, Dare, you might want to take it down a notch." Andrew's friendly tenor voice shattered his thoughts, but couldn't bleed the rage building in every particle of his being. He should have known she'd get snatched up the second he was out of sight, damn it! You don't just wander around town with legs like that and not get asked out!

"Coffee," he all but growled, forcing his eyes away to rest on the counter. He could have burned a hole through the top of it and into the basement. Maybe a quick smoking bomber might distract her? She'd want to know what his problem was, of course, but by then the whole arcade may have gone up in smoke.

He needed to calm down. He needed to focus. He needed to find a dark corner of a room and bawl like a frightened child, because she could have _anyone_ she wanted! Someone kinder, more endearing, more fun. His eyes were burning, with hate or love, he couldn't tell anymore. Had she moved on already? A thousand years or more fighting for each other and all it took was a few weeks to forget him?

She must have felt something through the bond, blue eyes snapped up from the page and the blush drained away. The cover slammed shut and she scrambled out of the stool and toward him. His eyes were already burning though, bloodshot and exhausted and suddenly wondering if all of this was worth the effort.

"D-Darien," she squeaked, but he could hear the subtle twist of fear in her voice. He made her afraid. His jaw clenched without permission, and the cup set gently in front of him was taken in an iron fist. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't bring it out in public,"

"Read whatever you like," he barked tightly, hating that she could still apologize for his hurt feelings. He should have known, damn it! After everything that happened between the breakup and now, he should have at least figured that Serena would move on. He wanted her to.

Didn't he?

"You mean…you're okay with it?" she chirped unsurely. He could see her fingers playing along the spine. She was nervous. She had every right to be. He'd been intentionally cruel last night in the hopes that she would fire back, that she would get angry with him. It hadn't worked. The girl had no sense of self-preservation. The dreams would become a terrifying reality unless she learned to defend herself.

No matter how many times he swore he'd always be there, the possibility of not showing up just once….

"Why would I care?" he snapped, mind still traveling its morbid path. Visions of her crushed, bloody corpse were already welling to the surface. Blue eyes staring forever away, lifeless and lightless, as empty a shell as if there had never been Serena inside.

"Well, it's from…" her gaze clouded with doubt, fluttering to the book clutched to her side. "From you, isn't it?"

He shot the volume a look of disgust, laced with violence and hate. There was no hiding it; he couldn't have if he tried. It was a small balm that she thought it was from him, though, because it meant….

Gods, he'd drive himself mad.

"You think I bought you a book?" There was incredulity in his tone, of course, but beneath it a solid foundation of desire. Hell, he could write entire libraries for her, and it would still make no difference. The dreams would continue, she'd be in danger, and there was nothing more he could do about it than keep his distance.

"You…didn't?" Her lips seemed to quiver as she spoke. It crushed him to see it, to see her so terrified to talk to him. But it was now or never, and it seemed someone else was plenty interested anyway. Someone who could make her blush with written words. Someone who could replace the shattered light in her eyes.

"Lose the memo already, Meatball Head? We broke up ages ago. Let me drink my coffee."

It felt like a slap the moment it left his mouth, and she reacted as she always did. It broke him. The silent tears were pooling in her eyes, her hands trembling as they rose to her mouth. He took it all in, hating himself for hurting her, hating himself for loving the sight of her. Even in pain, gods, her face, her soul was so beautiful.

Even running away from him, with her hair flitting and shimmering as she left….

It would drive him mad.

.

.

…..

She ran. There was nothing else to do.

The frustration brought her to her knees, sobbing helplessly and clutching the book to her stomach. The sobs were choking her. The pain rumbling through her system couldn't be stopped. Every sleepless night she'd spent pining for him, aching for even one kind word could all be rolled together into one giant waste of time and heartache.

Hear tears soaked into the cover, and the pages muffled the helpless wail that finally broke through. Though she curled into a ball on the ground, helplessly clinging to the only solid thing around her, it didn't matter.

"We broke up ages ago. Let me drink my coffee."

It didn't matter at all. The gifts outside her window weren't from him, and no matter what had been written in this stupid book; he just didn't care. She'd seen the look on his face. Even the idea that someone else took interest left a distasteful twist to his mouth.

She flipped the cover open again, positive that her eyes had lied to her before. It was no use. The letters were still his, the words were still sweet, and it felt like Endymion had written this a thousand years before realizing what a complete and utter failure she was. Darien had never been so kind–even the brief week or two they'd been tentatively dating he'd spent at arm's length. She didn't mind then, because it would take time to get used to actually having him around.

Then the breakup happened, and all the terrible things he'd said before Beryl's return came flying out of his mouth. Like they'd never been more than casual enemies. Like they didn't have memories so sweet and fiery that it left her burning in the morning sunlight. She shuddered, the pages crinkling noisily beneath her hands at the thought. A corner gave way beneath the pressure, taking with it a chunk of his solid, quiet words.

Not Darien's.

 _It must frighten you to hear such things from a man you cannot remember. Please, believe only that I have nothing but respect and devotion to which I owe this centuries-long search. Many times past, I have approached you, have courted you, and have learned through sad experience that true honesty is perhaps the only means by which your regard may be earned. You deserve no less._

She wanted to tear the pages out in rage, because if it wasn't from him, it just didn't matter! The words smeared together as she cried. She hated herself for continuing to flip through the book. Page after page of words, whispering in the back of her mind until she thought she'd lose all grip on reality.

It wouldn't change things! It was stupid to keep reading!

 _We have danced in a hundred lifetimes, my love, yet I would wait a hundred more for one taste of your lips, a single chance to hear your beautiful laughter once again._

 _Please, my sweet princess, meet me._

"Ugh, are you crying again?" The tiny, squeaky voice felt like fingernails on bone. Serena snapped the book shut, hating herself for needing the comfort. Most of all though, she hated that Rini had caught her reading it. The freaky little pip-squeak was holding an ice cream cone with half of it spread across her shirt, and the other still clinging to her face. "No wonder Darien broke up with you."

"I will kill you, you brat! Scram!"

Long after the squealing child left, she realized it had probably been an overreaction. The idea of chasing her fake cousin down and apologizing never crossed her mind. Serena leaned back on a tree, staring out over the remnants of the park and into a gas station across the street. Cars had come and gone in droves by now, and the setting sun left the world in a strange dream-haze.

Her fingers clutched the book tight against her chest. It couldn't heal the pain there. Even the words felt fake and used right now; she took no comfort from them. It wasn't Darien, and it didn't matter anymore. This was it. The rest of her life. She'd keep breathing, keep fighting the enemy, but feel like a shell. It seemed like a cruel sort of justice. The book fell against her knees again with flashes of orange and red sunlight dancing on the cover. Meet me, he'd said. As if this hadn't been written ages ago.

She couldn't remember walking home. Only standing dumbfounded feet from her front door with eyes drawn wide.

The roses were dark and full, so red they almost looked purple in the dying twilight. Her heart was pounding so hard that she was sure the petals would shake free any moment. They would fall like blood across the sidewalk, and mark this place as the last she would ever see. Her hands were shaking. She stepped forward enough to push the card at a better angle, and recoiled just as fast. Her name had been scrawled in the same precise handwriting, as if Darien had done it himself.

"We broke up ages ago."

She shuddered away, tempted to ignore the gift and go to bed. There was sure to be a battle tonight or some stupid final she'd forgotten about tomorrow. Not that it mattered either way, there was no rest waiting for her tonight. Just hurt. Just the same heartbreaking loneliness that practically characterized the last year of her life.

Instead, her fingers were pulling the card open, her eyes were spreading across the brief note.

Meet me.

Below was an address, but no name. The door whined just beyond the roses, but she couldn't look away. Her heart was louder than words, louder than sound, and it just kept screaming over and over.

What if?

Her fingers fumbled to open the book again, just to make sure it was the same person.

 _A woman whose name must always mean peace, yet I find you now a warrior. I have never known the power by which you have captivated me until now. I see you as you truly are: not a princess, not a woman, but a goddess divine; and I would worship at your altar forever._

"Serena, did you tell Rini you'd kill her?" Her eyes snapped up from the book, finally realizing what an open door meant. Irene stood tall with flashing eyes and arms crossed. Rini cowered behind her, a smug little grin on her stupid face. "You're grounded for the rest of the evening! Get inside."

.

.

….

The sun slid below the line of the ocean as she walked. It was numbing though, blessed peace after the past few days. The deepening gloom of summer ran later and later, the air still warm and honeyed though the day was drawing to a close. She pulled a rebellious lock behind her ear, clutching the purse to her shoulder with trembling white hands.

This was stupid. The girls had wanted her to go and see the secret admirer, and she'd finally agreed. Not that it mattered. She'd sit through a meal, smile politely and make small talk. Even if, for some bizarre reason, she could convince herself to stick around the whole night, it was only a matter of time before this person saw what Darien already had.

Then, it would be just her again.

Just her, and her broken, ridiculous, waste-of-life self that couldn't even walk here from home without tripping and scratching her knee. She flicked at her leg subconsciously, irritated that it would show right from the start. He'd probably take one look at her and run the other direction. Just like he should.

"Serena?"

The voice squeaked in the verge of manhood, grated on nerves that were already shot from lack of sleep. She turned curiously, setting eyes on a young, pimple-ridden youth about her age. He smiled, and so she did in return. There was no excitement, no wonder, no spark at all; just a hand stretched out in front of her.

She reached to take it uncertainly, but he drew back just as fast.

"No, sorry, your party is waiting just around the corner." Again, he pointed past her shoulder, back the way she'd come from. She must have walked right by the guy without even noticing. Great. Since he knew who she was, he'd probably watched the whole thing. Well, at least the ice was probably broken. Now they could both have a laugh at her expense.

"Thanks."

She turned back, this time seeing the white patio tables, the café, the street. They'd all been gone moments before, lost in the haze. The corner of the building led toward a small alley, where tables and couples spread in a picturesque urban setting. She didn't have to guess who it was waiting for her.

"You," she muttered quietly, the confusion branding her face as she stood there looking down at him. The familiar line of his jaw, the dark, impossible blue eyes. Darien at his best was stunning, the eastern style black suit perfectly tailored on his muscular form. He stood, taller than she remembered him being. It wasn't the shame, the contempt with which Darien usually regarded her.

It was like watching the storm clouds gather overhead; impossibly high and dark, with snatches of lightning burning in his gaze. She hated how easily the shivers broke her skin, how hard it was to look away and gather what anger she could. Still his presence burned against her side and front. She could feel the weight of his eyes bearing down on her, the burn of salty tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

This was cruel. This was some perverted joke only he could concoct. Oh, she must have done something truly heinous to deserve it.

"Serena," he drawled, voice dark and strange. The strong roll of her name off his tongue sounded alien and unnerving. She shied away from his hand, both irritated and hurt that he would do such a thing to her.

"Don't! Is this some kind of game to you? Do you enjoy torturing me! What's wrong with you?" The blond whipped around, legs already charged for the run. His hand wrapped around hers just as quickly with a gentle pull to keep her from leaving.

"Please, allow me to explain." The slight curve of his 'r' earlier was drawn into a lyrical accent. Foreign, something that made her think of haunting forests, icy rivers and jagged-toothed mountains. She could almost see the chill of her breath in the air, could replace the lush, warm feel of the café with stone walls. Blinking, the tiny girl glanced down at her hand trapped in his. The touch was cool and soft, so different from Darien's warm grip.

She trailed the black suit up his arm, the eastern latching on a mandarin style coat. The flesh of his neck was pale, like Darien's, but perfectly smooth. The face was more mature, but lacked the steady hand of years. His hair was cut at the nape of his neck and flowed down the sides of his face. The dark eyes lacked their standard guardedness, replaced with soul searing depth, an open feel Darien couldn't even muster when they were alone. It made her look closer at the shape of his face, the distance between his brows and the twist of his mouth. Even the slant of his cheekbones betrayed a different line, minute changes that altogether could be ignored or missed on first glance.

"I…don't understand…." The man standing before her was not her ex-boyfriend. Everything in his touch, his gaze said otherwise, but the small differences couldn't be ignored now that she'd seen them. His chest was slightly more broad, his shoulders large and muscled. The thin athletic body Darien sported could not be the same.

"Will you sit with me?" he offered again, extending one hand to the chair across from his. Startled by the sudden apparition of their surroundings, Serena gulped and slid into her seat without another word. Was it possible that he'd been brainwashed again? How could it have changed so many things though?

The stranger likewise took his own with silent grace, eyes never leaving hers as he moved. She blinked, forcing her gaze away just long enough to shoot a glance around the café. Couples were still sitting at the tables, the cashier was at the front taking orders. Everything else looked perfectly normal. It didn't make any sense, then, that she was hallucinating the whole meeting.

"I'm pleased to finally meet you. I've been waiting a long time to do so." He spoke quietly, never raising his voice, never looking away. She risked a glance at him. It was too late, her skin was already feeling too pink, her fingers twiddled beneath the table nervously.

"You talk weird." The words left her mouth before she could snap it shut. She flushed in embarrassment, reaching up to scratch at her forehead awkwardly. Just like her to go and shoot her mouth off without thinking. At least it matched the book. That much of the dream was falling into place.

The man chuckled darkly, shaking his head in amusement. "Ever direct, my dear. I am Vlad."

"Like…Dracula or something? Oh, you probably get that a lot," she fumbled through her words awkwardly, still trying not to look at him.

"Yes."

She couldn't tell which he was agreeing to. He was staring at her, eyes flicking to every part of her face. A nervous gulp inched past her throat. He looked harmless enough, even if she was beginning to suspect some sort of Negamoon trick. How hard would it be to send a droid with his face? How would they know to do that? They didn't know who she was, and he wore a mask that covered hid his identity. It would explain the gentle slant of his eyes though. She traced them thoughtfully, wondering if she should transform.

"Look, not to be creepy, but you look just like my ex," she whispered, barely able to form the thought. Her gaze dropped away as she blushed again. Shame for her words, and what they'd implied was already writhing in her gut. Not to mention she'd have to have a chat with her tall, imposing friend later. "Lita, eat your heart out." The quiet mutter was barely offered before a chuckle brought her eyes back up to his.

"Your ex." There were subtle flickers of amusement, curiosity and triumph mingling together beneath a hazy veil. She had the distinct feeling that no one else would have been able to detect it, though that was probably insane. Darien was impossible to read sometimes. Not that this was him. Her mind wandered back, months and months ago, when he'd been taken by Beryl's forces. The quiet, barely noticeable shift in expression had vanished by the time she saw him next. It had just been flat, dead eyes, and a twisted mouth.

So much like he'd been the past few weeks.

"He'd better not be brainwashed again." Her fists clenched at the thought. Rini had done exactly that to her parents not too long ago, and Darien was always taking her side. It wouldn't be surprising that the little rug-rat wanted him all to herself! She could even get it through that creepy floating ball she kept hanging over one shoulder.

A short bark of laughter was almost enough to disprove it though because Darien's was always so sneering, so arrogant when they first met. Since then, he hardly seemed able to muster that kind of involvement for more than a smile. This man's was genuine amusement. It was as obvious as him sitting there, though she was sure not a muscle on his face betrayed it.

"Ah yes, it would explain a few things." He paused as a waiter placed steaming plates of food between them. The sharp smell of zesty pizza and sausage had her mouth drooling. She'd been craving the dish for days now, but between training sessions and depression, there just hadn't been time or drive to even get it. "No, I assure you, I am quite myself."

Her eyes snapped back up to his again. This was starting to get really weird. He'd ordered something she'd wanted forever and didn't question the brainwashing statement. Even his mannerisms were perfectly matched to Darien's, though this man seemed more graceful and fluid. She stuffed a slice in her mouth thoughtfully, tracing the shape of his features like she had before.

"You seem to be aware of the concept of reincarnation, yes? But I must ask, how many lives are you aware of?" He leaned forward just enough to make the question seem like a scandalous secret. The taste of food petered out as her throat went dry. When did he get so close? It was like the table didn't even exist between them.

"Sorry? Lives?"

His mouth was so beautiful. The soft curve of his lower lip, how full and sweet and tempting…was he getting closer? She gulped, and the rough scratch of pizza caught in her throat. Amidst the hacking and coughing that ripped from her chest in response, she could almost feel his laughter like a warm flame against her face.

It wasn't cruel. He wasn't mocking her, he wasn't pushing her away. It was the last nail in the coffin, because Darien would never be like that. Darien didn't care about her. He never would.

"Why else would the others refer to you as princess?" he murmured, reminding her exactly how close he'd gotten since leaning forward. Even the random coughing fit hadn't repelled him. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, focusing in on the midnight gaze just inches away.

"Excuse me, how exactly do you know about,"

"There is a promise left unfulfilled, and your…Darien seems unwilling." The name dribbled from his mouth with scathing distaste. "I believe it is something I promised you long ago. It is one I have made many, many times."

His eyes were hypnotic, drawing her in with a power that seemed too strong to fight. The fear coiling slowly within her gut clenched tighter with every passing second. The truth ringing behind every word distorted their surroundings until it was just him staring into her soul from across the ages. She shuddered, still trapped by him, not sure if she really wanted to look away. Wind pulled thick fingers through the long hair and tugged at his sleeves.

It was familiar. Something about the wave of obsidian darkness flickering in yellow light tickled at the back of her mind, the feeling screamed until she couldn't focus on anything else.

"W-who are you?" she whispered, the chill pushing mist from her lips as she spoke. The dark forests were beginning to bleed through behind him, the sound of a wolf howling in the distance.

"I'm your husband."

.

.

….

It wasn't his fault.

He'd been minding his own business, wandering aimlessly through the streets. Serena just happened to walk by, eyes lost and unfocused as she went. It certainly wasn't some sort of addiction that forced his feet to follow, that made him cross the street and trail along behind like a kicked puppy. It didn't bother him at all when someone stopped her outside a restaurant, and instead of shaking her head and continuing on, she turned right around and nearly caught him staring.

It was moments like this when his skills as Tuxedo Mask came in handy. The blonde had no clue he'd been following, thanks to a hasty retreat into a clothing store to his left. Darien hid as best he could in a sales rack, peaking out through the merchandise to see where she was heading. He was just making sure she was safe. It had nothing to do with the stupid book she'd been reading, or the idea that she might want to meet someone. He was just….

Just losing his mind. She was stopped again at the mouth of an alley, a look of puzzlement on her face before slipping into rage. The corner blocked his view, though he was sure it was one of the girls. At least, he thought he was sure. She looked ready to scream and run before a hand snatched hers to pull her back. It could be Lita's. She was just meeting a friend for dinner. That's why she got mad.

He scurried past the alley and into the café. The place was packed, and her friend had chosen a seat by the wall. There were no good vantage points that would show who it was, but the broad chest and business suit left little room for interpretation.

Serena was…seeing someone.

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He couldn't see a face, just an arm and part of a shoulder. The desperate idea that maybe some awkward, undeserving boy from her class may have asked her out was obliterated. This guy was older. His watch screamed money. Even if Darien did figure out what the dreams were, it meant….

Now he was just kidding himself. Whether or not her new flame was competition really didn't matter. He should be happy for her. He should be just skipping down the damn street because….

Oh shove it, he'd kill the guy for even looking.

The bastard didn't show his face, not that the two leaning close to each other helped. Any moment now, the blood filling his vision would take control, and Darien would go smashing through the window on a homicidal bender. The guy seemed to know there were eyes on them, his careful bend was hidden by the branches of a potted plant so well that only a lock of dark hair showed through the mess of green. The two stood together, but even then, it was only a view of his back and a hand slowly pulling Serena from her seat. He slowly guided the blond toward the sidewalk and she was turning to stand in his arms seemingly without a fight. Darien hadn't noticed any music on the street, but that didn't seem to stop the couple from turning slowly together as if there were. The thought sent icicles shattering through his veins. The blond was still caught in the moment, her face passive and beautiful, but seemingly without life and excitement.

Their first dance had been exactly the opposite. Seeing the dejected beauty standing alone, he'd been drawn forward without power to refuse. The moment she'd seen him, her eyes lit with hope and excitement, and the dreamy haze that caught both of them had been bliss.

His heart thrummed angrily, pounding the inside of his ribs as if to punish him for ending things.

The man was about Darien's height and build, with dark hair cut a little too long and pale skin. His hands seemed grey beside the rush of golden hair swaying down her back. The dim lights began to fail as the last subtle hints of sunlight faded into the night. Darien was already up and out of his seat, glaring and wishing he could jump through the window, chase that freak down and beat his face to a bloody pulp.

That was when the stranger bent, and Serena's eyes fluttered shut as she willingly accepted his kiss.

Credit to da edit! slightlyxjaded


	5. Bloodline-2

Tri-bloodline 2

She may have feinted. Everything blurred away, the orbs of shaded midnight were the only constant that drew her back from the edge. When everything cleared again, the table was gone, the evening had moved into night, and the jazz band across the street flared. Her feet were moving, but the moment she was aware of them again, her toe caught against the stones.

She slammed her eyes shut, waiting for impact with the ground again. It never came. As the song continued, the feel of arms circling her back and a hand pressing hers down against a cool shirt slowly faded into reality. She blinked, yanking her head back to look around.

The stranger was holding her tight against his chest. They were turning together to the music floating from the other side of the street. She sucked in a surprised breath, trailing her view up from the hand at his shoulder towards his face again. There was no overwhelming power, though, no more than from her own curiosity. It shouldn't have affected her so much, this wasn't Darien. The rest of her simply didn't care, because her stomach was fluttering, her mouth running dry.

The man was gorgeous. The longer hair made him seem more mysterious, and the large shoulders were all muscle beneath her hands. Darien was in good shape, she knew that much in their short time together, but with them standing so close together, every muscle of his core was pressed against her stomach. He leaned down long enough to kiss her forehead with cool lips while his fingers tightened gently across her own.

"Wai…I don't…" she muttered, but lost the thought when he looked down again. The storm was raging in his gaze, so full of secret meaning she couldn't help but blush. Endymion would give her that look just before….

He bent, and the smooth, rich taste of Darien spread across her lips. It was sweet, familiar, delicious warmth that made her want to scream and cry in frustration. It was horrible, because she could feel herself melting at his touch, could sense the fluttering in her stomach, the drowning despair of love sinking in her chest. How could it not be him? Despite the barely notable differences, his voice, the shape of his hand against her back, it was all Darien, all Endymion.

It wasn't fair! Even when his touch left her hand to trace the shape of her cheek, to wipe at the tears flowing down her face, it was exactly as if her ex had done it. Maybe in some strange universe he had. Maybe she'd finally lost her mind to this stupid game, and the person kissing her was nothing like him at all. It was just some hallucination brought on by loneliness and heartache.

He pulled away when the first sobs tugged from her chest. There wasn't even a sense of guilt for letting someone else get so close, because it was so easy to replace the man in front of her. The meeting itself could be brushed aside, because this wasn't real. Her mind had snapped, she was dreaming herself a replacement, or worse, she'd actually come in the hopes that it would be like this and some boy had met her instead. The tears flooded her eyes and washed away the sight of him. It was better. She didn't want to see who it really was. She didn't want to see anything anymore.

"Shh, don't cry. Everything is better now."

Blinking cleared her vision, but it was still the distorted copy of Darien standing in front of her. He seemed so kind, even the usually placid eyes were filled with sympathy. The cool hand on her face wiped away the last vestiges of sorrow, but even that felt surreal.

"I don't understand! I don't…." His thumb pressed against her mouth instead. She was going to hiccup. Her nerves were so shot and her stomach so tight, she actually wondered if she'd throw up instead. His fingers were so soft against her lips. The pain flared in her chest as the memory of his mouth crashed through the back of her mind unbidden.

It was Darien's kiss. She was losing her mind.

"As I said, sweet Serena, there is more than one story of us." He smiled in his quiet, bemused way. His thumb traced her lower lip as he spoke. Her knees were beginning to shake.

"I don't understand," she tried again, but it was useless. The thoughts in her head had all crumbled together in a mess too complicated to bother with.

"Your ex and I are much the same-just as you and the princess are. I have not kept up with your adventures as well as I should have, so I can only assume that you do not remember yourself as my princess, however," he smiled faintly, as if amused at a memory. "I think you'll find our story…familiar."

It did make some sort of sense, even if the copy in front of her seemed older, maybe even more brooding than the upperclassman –if that was even possible. This was insanity! Even if they had lived other lives, Darien was around right now! How had this guy even survived when it was pretty obvious he'd been reborn again? How had he stayed so young? Or so….

She gulped, feeling the familiar coil of heat pooling together in her stomach. It was beginning to show despite her best efforts not to be attracted to him. That same hopeless, anxious feeling that had dominated her run-ins with Darien had returned with a vengeance, laced with something sweeter and darker than she remembered. The deep, stormy eyes, the full mouth so quietly amused, so secretive, every feature she'd memorized and cried over, everything was the same.

The sudden understanding almost hurt.

"May I tell you of us?"

It might as well have been a smorgasbord of free food dangling right between her eyes. Obviously things had worked out between them at least once; hearing about it may be what she needed right now to hold her over until Darien realized…realized….

What? That he was doomed to her? She shuddered, eyes dropping away as reality set in again. Yes, he could somehow remember some stupid little thing that would magically change how he felt. It worked so well with Ann and Alan. If he could look back, knowing everything she did, having fought beside her right from the start, and _still_ decide it wasn't worth it, then why hold out? Not that this strange copy of him wasn't appealing, but what was the point?

"I guess," she breathed, barely able to control the pain building up again in her chest. If it really was an earlier life coming to haunt her, he'd eventually see the same thing Darien did. That meant she'd have to go through all of this again. The idea bled the life from her, but it was inevitable. Might as well let him see it all, that way at least it wouldn't take long for him to turn-tail and run.

The stranger released her finally, bending gently to kiss her hand. The riptide dragged at her, almost pulled her legs out from under her. He was so perfect. Even a copy of him could have this affect, even with her fighting the sensation as hard as she could.

Inevitable. Fate.

He led her toward the crowded sidewalk. The people seemed to instinctually pull away as they went past, leaving plenty of room for both of them. It was only a few minutes after their walk began that she thought to look back at the café, at her half-eaten dinner she'd barely had a chance for. It was probably better that way.

Besides, maybe if she lost a few pounds….

Maybe if they weren't super heroes. Maybe if the sky was made out of Swiss cheese.

Maybe if she'd been attractive at all.

"We first met in the court of the Hungarian king. It was spring. I only remember because we were walking in the gardens, and the sound of your laughter matched perfectly with the flowers." He began quietly with a voice like liquid velvet. Despite the roar of crowds and traffic, the soft words were easily heard and understood. Her hand was wrapped around the crook of his arm as they walked. The gesture seemed ancient to her. "I was distracted by it. Moments later, you came running around the corner, your eyes alight with mischief, your hair wild in the sunlight. Your pursuer rounded the bend straight after, a young boy –the prince, I believe- whom you had befriended during your stay.

"I stood there watching you run toward me with your eyes trained behind. It was half-way between shame and pleasure, a complicated mixture of impropriety and enchantment. It was considered unladylike to wear your hair unbraided and to run amok like a child. After having lived in the Turkish courts for so long, I couldn't honestly remember what a woman looked like, let alone one as strikingly beautiful, as energetic and joyful as you. The weight of you smashed right into me, bearing us both to the ground with you trying to stifle your laughter and blushing."

"Yeesh, I'm starting to believe this insanity," Serena muttered, feeling herself blush in embarrassment.

"Yes," he grinned. The open lips revealed pearl white teeth, perfectly aligned with prominent canines. Serena gulped, feet betraying the sudden fear stealing over her. The edge of cement caught her ankle and she flinched, clenching her eyes shut again. Her body hadn't the time to tilt backward before he was there with a hand against the small of her back.

"Um, t-thanks." She blushed deeply, keeping her eyes lowered. The shock of fear didn't fade so much as shift from her chest to her stomach, lingering for an entirely different reason. He was so close now. She had to fight it, this wasn't Darien. Even if he was, he would never love her. This man would find the same things wrong. He would glare at her with the same cold eyes. He would see. She blinked at the tears, hoping they wouldn't fall.

His fingers hooked her chin and a few rebellious droplets dribbled down her cheeks in response. The dark cobalt eyes were soft and sweet as he carefully wiped the tears away. The poor man had to be tired of doing it by now. Besides, it just made everything hurt worse, because Endymion would look at her like that so long ago, would tell her that he loved her. The nicest thing Darien had ever said was that she looked cute. He'd done that just days before breaking up with her.

"I must admit, I have never seen you so filled with sorrow."

It was too obvious. She forced a gulp down and tried to push the thoughts away again. It was getting harder and harder to quiet them. It didn't help that his story seemed to drone on in that weird mix of words. He had to stop looking at her like that. It was too unnerving to remember all the harsh things Darien had said just a few days earlier.

"I'm sorry, go on," she urged finally. This stranger, even with his beautiful accent, couldn't make her forget. If anything, her brain was already twisting his voice in her head, changing his story around so he would feel disgusted by her. And why shouldn't he? It was just like her to go frolicking around like an idiot, plowing into people without a second thought.

Gods, she was so useless!

"I knew when your eyes met mine, so close I could have stolen a kiss without notice from your maid that you were meant to be my companion. I thought the king would have you punished severely, but your charms are so honest, so good and sweet that even he had probably been trapped by you. Looking back, it's a wonder he ever let you leave so willingly. His court was hardly the place for you. There were few attempts for your hand, and as your father's favorite child, he would not part with you.

"We walked together often. Your family was of minor nobility, fellow countrymen who had run after the death of my father. I learned you were supporters of him during his rule. It proved the difference in speaking with your father, who under any other circumstance could not condone you being married. Thankfully, his greed was easy to see; for a place in my court, he granted us permission to be wed before I returned home."

"How long did that take?" Serena chirped curiously. It was difficult to follow him; between the accent, and his odd use of words, the story was getting more and more opaque as she tried to piece it all together. If she could just slow it down, digest a bit at a time, she could understand where he came from, and why he was here.

"Two very long months. The longest of my life."

Her jaw fell open, feet frozen against the pavement. Darien and her had fought for a year almost between meeting and the death of Beryl. The idea that such a short time could pass without them fighting seemed unreal.

"W…woah…we didn't even date? I mean…how could you know I wasn't some crazy serial killer? Or some chick who just wanted…like…money?"

He chuckled again, raising her hand to his lips. "You have always been easy to read, my dear."

The blush was already painting her face. Yellow light from above gave a strange cast to his hair, and the wind pulled and tugged at him. It was a mesmerizing combination. The dark storm of his eyes smoldered through her own, the ground slowly melted away beneath her feet.

"Oh…" she whispered softly. He shot a devil-may-care grin straight through her heart before turning back toward the street. She followed, tracing the line of his shoulder down to their interlocked hands. His thumb slid across hers with just enough pressure to be more than innocent. The lump in her throat refused to budge.

"Wait," she murmured, slowing to a stop again. He turned, the streetlights carving his profile with expert hands. "This is a fairy tale. It's not real."

"Why would you say this?"

"Because," her lips trembled as she paused, turning to look anywhere but his face. "Because things like this don't happen. I mean, yeah, so I fight monsters and stuff, and that's not normal, but…." She couldn't put it into words. The nagging sensation was plucking at her chest, the words from the diary were bleeding forward over the story he'd told. There was more to it. He shouldn't exist. He shouldn't care about her.

A force slammed into her shoulder seconds later, nearly knocking her off her feet. The surprised scream cut short as again, the steady, cool hand stopped the fall. The couple turned as one to watch a familiar figure retrieve his fallen book. Dark, terrible eyes glared at them; so cold and cruel, so filled with disgust and rage that even Serena cowered back.

Her date turned, a cool disinterest on his face as their eyes met. Serena's mind fell blank now that they stood face to face. Vlad was taller, but only barely. The differences she'd noticed before were obliterated. There was no denying that a copy of him had somehow survived from a previous life, and perhaps the crazy story he'd told wasn't so far-fetched.

"Darien." His quiet voice may as well have been growl of disapproval. She couldn't think, couldn't speak, but the tension rippling between them was palpable and tasted like metal in the back of her throat.

"Couldn't have me, so you've found a bargain copy. Charming." Her ex slid a glare to the blond, but even she seemed completely unaffected by it.

All reasoning had shut down. Staring at the two of them, Serena couldn't piece together one thought from the next, let alone react to what Darien had said. They were the same man. It wasn't just a ghost of another life coming back, it was like Moonlight Night had stepped out of last spring as if nothing had happened; as if they had always been two separate men.

Cement pounded past her feet long before the rest of her brain cold catch up. Store windows flew by in a blur, and the pedestrians fumbled out of her way as best they could. Between the sound of her ragged breathing and the unsteady thrum of blood in her ears, the night felt surreal. This was a dream. She hadn't really seen anything, because instead she was going slowly crazy. It was perfect. The insanity felt like a blanket, a cocoon. She huddled into the thought even as her body careened down the busy streets without direction.

It must have been hours later when she tripped, landing face-first on the rough pavement. Her squeal of fear was echoed by a younger, pain filled screech. Fire exploded across her nose and cheek. The warm touch of blood dripped down her face. Serena shuddered, choking on a sob as her fingers teased the wound. They came back dark and glimmering.

"Serena, you idiot! Can't you learn how to walk?"

Dazed and hurting, the young blond twisted enough to glance over her shoulder curiously. The young girl with cotton candy hair didn't seem to register for the first few seconds. Instead, it was his cold eyes, his hate-filled words. That face loomed in the night, just as she had seen it last.

"Serena?" Rini queried, shuffling to her feet. The terrified woman was shaking, staring with wide, panic-stricken eyes. The child glanced behind, but there was nothing strange about traffic or Luna-P. Curious, she came forward to help the stupid middle-schooler off the ground. Instead, Serena let out the most horrified scream, clutching at her face and trying to crawl away at the same time.

"No, no! Gods, get away! Stay away from me!"

"It's just me, you dumb crybaby! Stop doing that!" Rini recoiled visibly at the sight of a fallen body on the ground. Her stomach churned, the same gut-wrenching sensation that had followed her through time. She tried not to remember the hollow, sunken faces of the dead dotting the grounds. She tried not to feel the horror slowly building a glacier in her throat. Irritation forced her hands to grip her 'older cousin's' shoulder, but everything else seemed to explode the moment they touched.

.

.

….

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" Dark eyes narrowed dangerously, drawing across the features with something close to dread. This must have been what that book was about. There was a momentary shot of relief; something he hated himself for instantly. This was obviously a Black Moon trick, they'd cloned him and sent it after Serena knowing they were on the rocks. It seemed the enemy had more personal information than they let on.

His opponent smiled, stuffing a hand in one pocket in a surreal display of perfectly-matched mannerisms. No wonder the copy had caught her off-guard. Behind his back, the cold steel of a rose bit across his fingers, frosted with indignation and fury. Going after a heartbroken young girl; it seemed exactly like the kind of ploy they'd use.

"I seem to have lost my date. Excuse me."

The clone actually had the gall to turn his back. Darien launched forward, clothes rippling into shadow as he went. The rose he'd made whipped around from behind, aimed squarely in the center of the neck. It would have landed perfectly had a grip like steel not crushed around his fist. He screamed. The bones snapped audibly, the world filled with dark spots as he fell to his knees.

"Forgive me; the men of your time seem to have forgotten their manners. Attack a man to his face, or risk the title of a coward." The shattering grip hardened, sparking as his healing activated. The two forces fought just long enough to burn agony through the length of his arm. Tuxedo Mask screamed again, fighting back the darkness for fear this thing would get to Serena.

The man threw his crushed fist away, pierced through with thorns and crackling in the night. The sallow lamps above were cancerous and hollow beside its light. Darien gulped, forcing the lump in his throat down long enough to tear the rose from his flesh.

"Hmm, so I have not lost all courage. However," he murmured, smiling cruelly in the half-light as he stepped forward again. "Perhaps a quick lesson…."

The night sky shattered. Brilliant white light coated the city streets and hazed the space between both men. The essence was sweet and bright, familiar and yet scared. Tuxedo Mask bit at his lip, fighting back the waves of pain as her mind careened into his from across town. The cold panic writhed in his brain stem, and visions of his own stony, calculating face crushed through the fog. He shuddered, gasping a breath as the realization burst through his mind.

She was running from _him_.

"Serena…." The tall figure turned toward the explosion, eyes narrowed dangerously. The twist of his mouth became ominous, shifting bone and form as beastly features began to seep through. The hero swung wildly for a leg, forcing the memory of her fear away along with the panic. Now was not the time, she'd have to transform and defend herself if there was more going on. His fingers grazed a pant leg, but nothing more as figure blurred and vanished, leaving Darien alone and nursing his broken hand.

.

.

….

Rini trembled beneath the warm blast, tiny arms up to cover her head. The terrified cinnamon eyes clenched shut, but within her chest, an answering call flared hot as a star. Her forehead began to heat and turn leaden, pulling her face down toward the ground. She fought it, fought the sensation of weight crushing down on her tiny body. She would die here! She was nothing like her mother-nothing of the goddess who could have banished this power as if it were nothing.

The lights were still burning as she forced her eyes open. The girl she'd been trying to help still lay across the cement, but her whole being was filled with silvery white light, and her face….

"Oh…no…" the girl muttered, eyes as wide as Serena's had been before.

The golden mark of royalty stared back. The pink skirt and dark blue top were beginning to fold out into billowing skirts, the hair was bleeding free of color. Before her eyes, the whining, selfish girl she'd always secretly liked was morphing into a younger version of the queen. As the clothing shifted, as the lights began to dim, Rini watched the specter struggle up to her elbows, completely unaware that her own daughter sat watching.

The idea overwhelmed every other thought. Serenity, the last true Lunarian, struggled to her feet, weeping pink from blood, clutching her head where the wound blossomed. Rini felt tears slide down her face, in shame, in jealousy. Even now, at this age, her mother was beautiful. The power came so easily to her, lashing out at a single touch to turn the night sky to star fire and lights. It billowed out from her just as real as her dress, as glimmering as her hair.

"Ugh, I don't feel so g…so well," the tall, silvery woman moaned, pulling her hand away long enough to hiss at the blood dripping down her arm. Even the dark rivers were long and elegant. It was nothing like the people of earth so far into the future. Not at all like the snapped limbs hanging by broken flesh, the pools of blood sponged and splattered across gaping maws.

"Well, well, this is quite the development." Rini snapped back from the horror, eyes drawn to the street. Several cars had slammed into each other in the intersection. Broken, twisted metal peppered the ground. The few left standing after the accident were staring at the ghostly woman with awe, completely unaware of the four sisters melting into existence behind them. The sight of Prisma still made her blood run cold. There was just something terribly wrong about the twist of hard green eyes, the firm brow. Between them, the ground slithered and hissed, broken rock and chunks of cars writhing together as a droid took form.

"I feel a promotion coming on," Avery sneered, claws sharpening. The two advanced, their youma pawing in front with wicked teeth gleaming. Silvery air misted the ground between them, and Serenity was clutching her face with one hand again. She hadn't seen them. The tiny girl panicked, frozen in place for fear she'd be recognized, but more scared that Serena would get hurt.

Her tiny fist clenched in anger, hard scarlet eyes turned toward the two Specter Sisters just feet from them. Serena didn't know anything about this, and Rini wasn't going to let some Dark Moon pawn hurt her mother. Not again. The tiny hand snatched Luna-P by the antennae and threw, aiming for Catsy's face while she screamed her command.

"Luna-P! Transform!"

The ball bleeped a few times, activating instantly. The soft black exterior crushed in on itself, hardened instantly, and smashed into the vain woman's face hard enough to knock her back. Avery turned, the viscous grin sharpening.

"Two for one? I can hardly believe the luck."

"Serena, transform! Do it, now!" A golden streak flew past the duo just in time to block an attack aimed from behind. Venus ripped her chain to the side, and with it, the gloved hand of Bertier. The pale woman took to the air in a tremendous arc before slamming into the ground further away.

Rini had just enough time to turn toward her mother before the world exploded in rainbow lights, knocking her from her feet and sending her sliding across the cement. Her hand was torn, leg badly bruised, but they were both forgotten as Sailor Moon stepped from the mess of color. Her cheek still bled, though it was easy to see how quickly the cut was mending.

"What the heck is going on? I swear I'm losing it…Catsy!" The champion of justice was beginning to get her bearings back. The silvery dust in the air swirled and dissipated in one flash, revealing the sister crouched low in the middle of the street. Cars had piled up around her, pedestrians running in fear. She stood, having lost the element of surprise, and fluffed at her dress in irritation.

"That little brat is gunna get her hands removed for that one." Her cheek was bloodied and dark. In a strange sense of déjà vu, the two cornered off against each other, each sporting a similar wound.

"Yeah, over my dead body!" Moon spat. Her glove caught the last traces of blood dribbling down her cheek before her opponent rushed forward with claws drawn. Rini screamed. The air around her rippled to life, exploding outward in a shower of sparks that knocked Avery from her feet. Seconds later, Jupiter's thunder green boots lit on cement, her form tense and ready. She caught the blow from Prisma with a solid block and thrust her fist deep into the other woman's gut without hesitation.

The little princess couldn't find a place for her eyes to land between the jumble of bodies. Venus and Bertier exchanged shattered ice for chains, Jupiter and Prisma wrestled bodily across the ground. The Amazon had ripped her opponent's bun free and was currently pinning her to the ground with the mess of green locks while smashing her face with the other hand. Moon had been knocked from her feet, but retaliated with a short blast from her scepter. Catsy's burned tutu lost another charred tuft as she retreated.

Moon was Serena. Serena was Serenity. She was fighting, she was the invincible warrior her father had always told her about. Had papa known? Why couldn't her mother do these things in the future too? It came so easy to her! She could fight off the specter sisters now, so what had changed? The sharp stab of guilt ripped into her side and she shuddered, sobbing helplessly as she watched the legendary warrior block a jab, and take two more for her effort.

"Gotcha." A hand ripped against her pigtail violently, shattering agony through her scalp and forcing her to her feet. Rini screamed, but the power was already gone. She couldn't control it, not like she should be able to. "Won't the prince be pleased? Once I tell him our little Moon brats are related," Avery murmured wickedly, her eyes sharp and golden.

Moon whipped around at the cry, forgetting her opponent long enough to spot Rini being dragged to her feet. The child was glowing again, but the light made it hard to see her face. It was instinct, though, that forced Serena to move. She turned back long enough to snatch Catsy's leg mid-swing and throw her off balance. Rather than pin the woman down, the warrior turned instead to the golden sister with her wand charging.

It was hot rage boiling in her chest after watching the tiny hands get yanked backward and tied together. Moon didn't bother to scream her attack, simply funneling that anger down through her arms to light the length of her staff in slithering silver fire. Rini stomped against her captor's foot long enough to loosen her grip. Rather than defend the blast of power heading her way, Avery's eyes were drawn toward her captive, ready to scream a command.

The power exploded from Moon's scepter, but long before she could recover or make sure her feet hit the ground again, shadows burst forward on both sides of her, rocketing almost as fast as her attack. When the lights cleared, the lumbering shadows where already howling, snapping and shearing muscle from bone. The singed shoulder was nothing compared to the sight that greeted her.

"Oh…my gods…" she breathed, shuddering away from the vision of carnage. The wolves were crawling all over Avery, maws dripping with blood. The woman hadn't had a chance to let loose her howl of rage. Grass and cement ran dark and pooling. Moonlight glistened on long grins and snapping teeth. There were five animals at least that she could see, but the murky streetlamps didn't help.

A secondary darkness ripped from the trees, and Catsy's familiar grunt of pain followed. Across the ground, Prisma's howl cut short, and Bertier squealed once, and was silent. It was impossible to look away from the mess of bloodied fur, the fiendish howling of the wolves. Moon slid back, her eyes locked on the pack.

The largest yawned, revealing rows of jagged teeth. Hard yellow eyes were fixed against hers and massive paws crept toward her. She screamed, forcing her feet to move faster. The lamppost caught her before she could find another way out. A second wolf grunted to her left, licking its mouth with a long pink tongue.

"Help…" she breathed, afraid to move in case it set off the two animals.

Rini grasped at her hands, watching the pale skin turn warm and swell. Avery had twisted her arm back, and the ache in her shoulder and elbow made it hard to focus on anything else for a few minutes. There had been a blast of power, a light…she flung dark eyes around the street and immediately wished she hadn't.

A gloved had took her shoulder, but it was too late. This was the future, now. The gaping, open mouths, the broken flesh and terror. It even smelled the same. The hard, iron, throat-coating taste of despair and death was too familiar, too distinct not to recognize. Even the velvet plush of Tuxedo Mask's cape couldn't blot the sounds of blood curdling screams, the tearing of meat. This she recognized perfectly.

"No," her protector ground out. She clung to him, following the gaze toward where Moon had been before. The blond was cornered by wolves, so frozen in fear that there would be no escape. Rini would die here the second the first monster dove at her mother. She'd come to the past in the hopes that the legendary warrior could help her. She couldn't even help herself. It wouldn't matter.

"The hell?" Jupiter spat, drawing back mid-swing. Prisma had gone for a block, and instead sat frozen in horror as a chunk of wood broke through her sternum from behind. The woman was launched upward, far from the thunder warrior's reach, high into the sky and pinned there like a butterfly on a board. The Amazon whipped around, fists ready, but it was no use. Barely a second had passed, and already the battlefield lay empty but for the few Scouts that had made it in time.

"Shh." The familiar sound may have been the most desperately needed thing ever. Moon spun, launching herself at the newcomer in blind terror. It wasn't the feel of velvet through her gloves, the familiar slim shoulders she was used to. Instead, she met with muscle, the brush of longer hair on her cheek. She was shaking, incoherently trying to piece together what was happening through the crushing fear of those teeth sinking into her back. Gentle fingers grazed her arm. The voice returned, rumbling in her ear from eons away. "They won't hurt you."

"Wh…wh…the…" she gulped, trying to force herself to do anything but shake. It was useless. They were still whining, the sound of their feast so loud she couldn't think. His shoulders were solid and steady beneath her arms. One of the wolves whined throatily before yipping. She squealed, and was lifted from her feet almost instantly.

"Shh, Serena. You are not their intended prey. Come, let me accompany you home." The ground was moving beneath them, but gallons of adrenaline drown out all other thought. The steady arms were feverish within her trembled hands, and his suit slid across her gloves with a musical hiss. It was enough to smother the sounds of howling and snapping.

Maybe it was the panic, or the strange evening that led to this, but for a second, she could almost feel the ghostly float of skirts around her feet.

.

.

….

Horrified, Rini watched as the tall, freakishly familiar man strode away from them. Serena's long golden hair fluttered around his shoulders as he left, and the silvery glitters trailed after them. Numb, she turned slowly toward her hero. Her eyes drunk n the sight of his tight, angry mouth, the twist in his brow. For so long, she'd thought he was familiar. And tonight, after watching Serena turn into her mother right in front of her, some part may have wished he was, in fact, King Endymion….

But now, maybe she'd misread things? Maybe he wasn't the man she thought he was.

"Tuxedo, you're... Darien, right?"

Startled, he nearly dropped the tiny bundle. In watching that clone walk away with _his_ princess, he'd completely forgotten Rini was still clutching his jacket. Her large cinnamon eyes were overcast with suspicion, as his was. She seemed afraid, and mature beyond her years.

"What? Why do you think that?" he queried finally, knowing the game was up. Rini knew who he was, and lying to her would only drive her away.

"Because…because Serena is Sailor Moon," she sobbed, rubbing at her face. She was so tired. All the fear, the running, searching in vain for a hero her father had told her was invincible. Instead, it was just whiny Serena, the same girl who would one day be the most powerful woman on Earth. It didn't seem right! The blond didn't even _like_ her!

"What makes you think Serena is…"

"I saw her! I saw her transform, and she's…she's…." Rini trailed off, burying her face in the jacket and sobbing helplessly. He rubbed her back, wandering away from the scouts now roaming the area. Pedestrians had fled, thankfully, but the mess remained. Even the wolves had vanished.

"Serena… she's my mom…and she hates me."

This time, he had to scramble to keep her up off the ground.

"Sorry, what? Look, I don't know what you saw, but Serena's way too young…" he rushed, trying to force his hands to stop shaking. This was not happening. Rini was not saying these things. Serena was not being carried off by his evil twin! It was too much. He needed to set the girl down, maybe hand her off to one of the scouts.

"No! No, not right now!" She cried as he set her down in an alleyway. The fat tears rolled off her cheeks and stained the front of her school uniform, and her eyes practically glowed red. "I'm not born yet! What…what if that scary guy takes her away? What if she never has me?"

Suddenly, the hysterical little girl wasn't so hard to believe. As her distress grew, the darkened corridor began to light, and her forehead was already beginning to glow. It didn't take much to put it together that she had to be some family to one of the scouts, and why not Serena? Why not from the future?

After all, their past was just as impossible.

"You're from the future." He stated it quietly, fists already clenched at his side. Now he could see it. The soft heart shape of her face, the tilt of impish lips, even the eyebrows all but screamed Serena. It wasn't jealousy, it wasn't rage that cataloged the features that didn't belong to her. It had to be some sort of clinical curiosity, and certainly not a standing rubric from which he would clearly need to watch for future admirers.

"Yes! And I won't exist…because she won't…" Rini hiccupped, rubbing at her eyes. The silvery outline of her birthmark was beginning to break through the skin, cementing the reality of it all into the base of his skull with molten lead.

Serena had a child. The thought made his teeth ache.

"She won't what, Rini?" he ground out finally, eyes narrowed. Rini didn't seem offended at his tone, didn't even notice that he'd used it. She was too far gone in terror.

"She…won't marry my dad," she sobbed helplessly, crumpling to her knees. "…it's all my fault! I just needed some help! I…I didn't mean to break everything!"

.

.

...

Hey guys, sorry for the long delay! This is a birthday present for one of you-you know who you are!  
I have to admit, the reason for the delay is that there just wasn't enough interest. Chapters take a long time to write and edit, and I had other things to do. Frankly, I didn't think anyone would notice if I just didn't update.

whine whine whine

I am a giant baby.

E


	6. Bloodline-3

Bloodlines 3

By the time her eyes slid open the next morning, her phone had more than a hundred messages.

She stared at the screen, mouth slightly hanging, and quickly stuffed the piece back under her pillow. The hazy, indistinct visions of last night mashed together without meaning. It was a dream. Everything after the arcade must have been. It was so strange, though, because she must have slept an entire day, and to have so many messages without the ringer waking her up didn't seem possible.

She flicked the sheets back, squealed, and pulled the rumpled pile back over her naked body.

Struggling for breath, the girl trembled feverishly, wondering why or how she may have gotten into bed like this. It was summer, but her usual pajamas were still draped over the back of the chair. Her hair had been taken down, the pins stacked neatly on her bedside table. Her flats were by the door. The same flats she'd thrown on in her dream.

Curious now, she peeled the sheet away from her leg to view the scab of blood. The wound looked old–something that would have happened only if she'd transformed the night before. The shaking grew violent, large sapphire eyes searched the room in a panic.

There was a book on her vanity and two roses stacked beside it.

It…it wasn't a dream. She gulped, forcing herself to breathe steady. The memories were so hard to distinguish, though, so laced with fear. She'd left here yesterday evening, walking and thinking, watching the sun go down. The trek had been unmemorable, other than tripping over herself like an idiot, and scratching up her leg. A flash of his face bore through the mess, tinged with some other world. She could still see the longer hair trailing at the nape of his neck, the foreign angle of his classic cheekbones.

The thought made her blushed furiously, and she buried her face in the blankets.

He'd been so kind. Was she sure it wasn't a dream? Darien had never been like that with her, if anything he always seemed so indifferent. This newer version had held her tenderly and wiped the tears from her cheeks. He'd spoken softly to her, and even that small amount of kindness seemed alien. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Hadn't he played the bad guy once? Even then, he'd been little less than uncaring, maybe not quite hateful.

What was his name again? She racked her memory from the night before, as feverish and confusing as it was. She couldn't remember. Pieces of his story swirled together until there was nothing but the thought of her running headlong into him at breakneck speed. She groaned, pulling the blankets up over her head as if to hide from it.

There'd been a fight. Her scab was enough to confirm that, but when she tried to focus her memory there, it was like she was recoiling in horror at the same time. He'd come at the end and taken her home, or maybe she'd imagined that too? But then, why wasn't she dressed in pajamas? Where was Luna? Why couldn't she just focus long enough to remember last night?

He'd stripped her naked and tucked her in…gods, that was creepy! What else had he done? What had _they_ done? She scrambled free of the sheets, draped a robe around her shoulders and fled to the bathroom.

The black feline was bent into the bathroom sink, her pink tongue lapping at the steady stream of water. The door slammed shut after Serena barged in, making Luna yelp and jump in surprise. Her nose bashed against the faucet, leaving blinding white pain spots over her vision.

"Serena," the feline hissed, rubbing at her sore nose. It was lost on the teenager, though, who had ripped open the robe in front of the mirror and was busy cataloguing every inch of skin.

There was a tiny white scar on her cheek. The wound on her knee was almost completely healed. A soft twinge of pain pinged in her shoulder, probably from the fight as well. Trying to piece together the injuries was almost too much. She remembered seeing them face to face, running, falling…but what had scared her so much? Why couldn't she remember anything other than fighting with Catsy?

The nervous examination continued. She carefully wound through the catalogue of injuries, careful to hold the memories of Endymion at bay while she did. There was no sign they'd slept together. The strange mix of relief and disappointment prickled on the back of her tongue like salt. She'd want to remember it, anyway. Last night was nothing but a blur, and the earlier memories all too clear.

Serena grimaced, pressing her forehead to the glass finally. Even those nights meant nothing to him. The thought wasn't a welcome one. It was funny, now that she could look back. Since remembering their past, there had only been a few days when the idea of him _didn't_ bring pain. It was almost a year later, and still the memories reminded her of nights spent crying because Beryl had him; she'd had no idea if he was even alive anymore. Now it seemed like such a waste of perfectly good sleeping time. It didn't matter to him either way.

Like he'd said, they broke up ages ago.

She must have missed the cue somewhere along the way. Like the idiot blond she was, the moment must have passed her by without so much as a thought. Maybe it was his death. Maybe that had been a better fate than being trapped to her. She often wondered if the girls felt the same. After all, they'd all done their duty in the past, there was no reason to punish them further. The only one who had messed up was her. A tired tear rolled down her cheek, but she wiped it away just as quickly.

Some strange man had carried her home last night, and still, all she could think about was Darien. She was mental.

"Serena, are you alright?" The prod of soft fur bumped against Serena's side, but she couldn't seem to make herself react to it. Either she'd hallucinated the whole thing last night, or there really was some carbon copy out roaming the streets. He'd rescued her from wolves. They'd come straight home…it all seemed to fall apart after she clenched her eyes shut. Even cowering in his arms as she'd done, it was difficult not to imagine those large, yellowed canines sinking into her back from behind….

She scrubbed her face with both hands, so uncomfortable it was tempting to try and peel back the skin with her nails. Instead, it was his hands on her face, his mouth on her lips. Her stomach caved and twisted at the idea.

"Did someone…come home with me last night?" The question fell with half-whispered terror. Luna was purring, but all she could hear was the steady growl of wolves, the thrum of her own heart ready to burst.

"You were asleep long before I got back from Mina's. I didn't smell anything unusual."

There was still her phone hidden away beneath the pillow. He must have silenced it before leaving, otherwise the girls would have woken her up. The blond tucked her robe together again, scratched Luna behind the ears, and wandered back to her bedroom.

The late morning sun was harsh on the carpet. Her eyes drew to the book first, a siren's call with the dream events of yesterday still crashing together in the back of her mind. She crossed to the bed resolutely, ignoring the leather bound tome with every fiber of her being. Instead, the pink phone was tugged from beneath the pillow again, her lock screen already buzzing with texts.

The messages varied. Everyone was worried. Raye couldn't get the window open last night, and couldn't seem to wake her up. Mina mentioned something about Rini. Everyone wanted answers. She had none.

Luna rubbed against her leg, purring and offering comfort. Serena felt the familiar heat building behind her eyes, the weight in her chest. She just wanted to be normal. All of this was too much. Being a scout was awful and soul crushing. Darien hated her and always would, Vlad was…if that was even his name….

"Maybe…maybe I should talk to the girls," she murmured finally, sinking into the bed and drawing the cat across her lap. It was a long time before she could pull herself together enough to let go again.

.

.

…

Summer traffic should have been more distracting, but the blond was already so lost in her own thoughts that the raging crowds made no impact. Bit by bit, pieces of last night were beginning to fall into place again. Vlad had shown up right after the wolves and carried her home. She'd been so panic-stricken that the walk itself couldn't be remembered.

He'd set her down outside her window, hadn't he? It was a struggle to remember anything after their eyes met. There had been wind on her cold cheeks, her bangs had been fluttering, tails of hair tugging at her. He seemed so kind. Then she'd woken up this morning. Naked.

"Whu," she tried, but the words were cut short as strong hands gripped her jaw and pulled. She squealed, gripping the forearm with both hands, but by then the stark cobalt eyes had already left their mark on her. The surprise slid into a hiss of anger and confusion. He was yanking her face to the side as if he were looking for something, but whatever it was just seemed to make Darien's dark eyes turn colder. She shuddered, trying to pull away from him, but it was clear he had no intention of allowing it until he'd had a good look.

"Hold still," he snapped absently, now tugging at her sleeves. She fought, because after everything last night, all there was in her head was confusion and anger and doubt. He hated her! What was this, some sort of strip search right here in the middle of the street?

"Stop it!" she barked angrily, yanking her arm away when his thumb slid over her pulse points. And damn her, but her flesh was heating and sparking, it was getting harder not to stare at him, not to want that same touch all over. For a moment, it felt like Serenity strained against the bonds from within, the world around her hazed and misted over before she could think to fight back.

"Not until I've had a look," he spoke again, as disinterested as ever. Clinical. Detached. It was enough to slam the ancient princess back into her corner and lock the door.

"Why do you even care? Let go!" She yanked again, harder this time, until his grip on her flesh made red and white marks. He did as she asked, more out of shock than compliance. It didn't matter, though, because she was free. The arcade was close. She bolted for the door like a frightened animal. Andrew would protect her. Andrew would understand, even when Darien didn't.

The hiss of the door came just slightly too late; her shoulder slammed into the casing as she rounded the corner. There was a moment of pain, her hand rose to grip the wound, but she was already searching frantically for the girls. The arcade was packed with kids free for the summer. Games pinged and screamed over the sound of too many people. The cacophony was enough to disorient her momentarily. She rubbed at her shoulder thoughtfully, still racing though everyone around her was now staring. Hopefully, they'd chosen somewhere out of sight, somewhere she could hide behind….

Amy's face peeked around the corner as she ran, and the blond slid to an awkward stop before diving over the partition and into Raye's lap. The girls squealed in surprise and she got a legfull of ketchup for her efforts, but even that didn't seem as bad as having to face Darien once he came out of the stupor.

Without words, she scrambled into the seat between the raven haired priestess and the street brawler. It was tempting to climb beneath the table in a mad frenzy of terror, but Lita's hand snapped around her arm before she could make the final dive. Still, she cowered down with hands over her hair in the hopes he wouldn't be able to see her in the crowd. The door chimed.

"Um…hey Serena," Raye greeted demurely, wiping spare ketchup from her hand without so much as a blink.

"Quite the entrance," Amy remarked, adjusting her glasses back on her nose again after Mina's hand had knocked them free. Serena didn't bother to look up. The sound of footsteps were coming closer now, and she was sure he'd be tall enough to see the group any moment. Her heart pounded against her ribcage hard enough to smother everything.

What had she been thinking? Ripping herself away like that would do nothing but enrage the upperclassman, and send him running after her for some pathetic attempt at chivalry. What had he even been looking for? How the hell had he known she'd be coming to the arcade today, and why the hell did he care? Had…she gulped awkwardly, had he known somehow that Vlad took her home last night? Worse…did he know how he'd left her last night?

What if he'd seen everything? Her whole body shook with horror and embarrassment. Just the thought of some guy who looked like her ex slowly stripping off clothes and laying her down was enough to nearly force a black out. Yeah. Yeah, that would totally piss Darien off. Enough even that he'd stalk her like some creeper on the street, even though he hated her. Shit. She was lucky to be alive right now.

"You running from someone?" Lita was sitting up, carefully cracking her knuckles and turning in her seat. It was only mildly comforting to have the Amazon on her side. Her tall, imposing friend had once strangled Darien without thinking about it last year. Maybe she'd do it again if she thought Serena was in danger?

"Shh!" the blond hissed, sparing a glance around. "Darien…" she didn't finish. Instead, there was nothing but a crowd of people staring at her awkwardly and glancing back toward the door as if they expected some mass murderer to come screaming through at any moment. There was no sign of him.

"Well, at least it's not the other one." Raye had found her fries again and sat with two straws dripping onto the plate. The dark violet eyes were hard and focused, though, as if she was reaching out with more than sight.

The other one. She shivered helplessly, remembering that last moment beneath her window: dark eyes and a soft smile, the touch of cool wind on her face. The man who spoke from a forgotten past, who carefully dried her tears away; her stomach tumbled helplessly.

"Oh no, I've seen that look before. We're slipping that in the butt right now!" Mina snapped. The girls froze awkwardly, their faces reddening in the wake of the comment. Even Serena blinked a few times before casting eyes around the group. Surely she couldn't have been the only one to catch that.

"Jeez, Mina, that's not…" Amy tried, half hiding her horror in one hand. Ray and Lita sniggered good-naturedly, and the offending blond couldn't hide the kitten grin that spread across her face.

"I wondered. Seems erotic…" Mina trailed off, lifting a finger to the corner of her mouth. Not the least abashed for her words, though, she seemed to be off in some fantasy world momentarily while the others shifted in their seats.

"Anyway, we need to talk about last night," the bluenette began. Her fingers were already flying across the keys of the mini computer.

"Yeah, like maybe somebody met up with a serial killer without telling anyone. Smart move." Lita noted with a hint of irritation on her voice, settling back in her seat now that everything had calmed again.

"Sorry…what?"

"Not my choice of words, but certainly apt," the genius cast a quick glance over the screen. "What we need to figure out is where he came from and why he's here. It doesn't make sense that someone like that would purposefully seek us out unless there's something more going on." The clicking slowed momentarily as all eyes turned toward Serena. She gulped, blushing and wishing she could duck under the table.

They didn't know, did they? The girls hadn't caught a good enough look at him to understand who he was, right? Some part of her wished it could be a secret, just like her book…of course that was out in the open now, too. Raye tapped a blood red fingernail against the table, but Serena didn't want to look up at her. Would they understand? Would they even want to know what was going on? Maybe the better question was, did she?

"Serena, I think this is something we all agree on, that guy's not normal.," the priestess stated finally, as if waiting for some excuse wouldn't suffice. Of course, that's what they all expected, wasn't it? Some childish explanation where all she had to do was bat her eyes a few times, and they could all throw their hands up in frustration.

They didn't even understand what it was like to live in the constant shadow of a failed relationship–especially not something that had spanned the centuries before face-planting right in her lap. They didn't know what it was like to have someone looking down their nose at a memory she could barely handle to begin with. And Vlad, how could she even start? How could she try and explain something that still didn't make sense to her, and probably never would?

"Of course he's not normal! Are you kidding me? He's," Serena's voice dropped several decibels once she realized how loud she was being. "He's Darien's past self from who-knows-when! Whoever he is, he's supposed to be dead!"

Well, that was one way to say it. If she could have gracefully slammed her face into one hand, she would have. No wonder the girls thought she was an idiot, this was all she ever did! And if Vlad's story last night had been any indication, she'd been doing it for longer than one life!

"We might have a clue on that, anyway," Amy offered quietly. "After Raye followed you home, we started putting things together. His style is pretty distinctive."

"What do you mean?" she mumbled hoarsely, suddenly drawn to the memory of the yellow eyes and snapping jaws that had surrounded her the night before. He'd warned her not to act like a prey item. He hadn't even been nervous.

"If I can be blunt, not many people leave a battlefield of impaled victims when they go." Lita's strong alto voice left little room for comment. There was a haunted look to her eyes–something she couldn't un-see that kept playing over and over. A cold chill crept up Serena's back just looking at the brunette.

"Look." The mini-computer turned and she felt her stomach recoil in horror. Prisma's body hung suspended in the air, dripping blood from a massive protrusion of wood from her chest. Behind her, Catsy bore a similar position, with her dead, glass eyes staring forever down toward the ground. The other side of the screen held an old woodcut, yet the figures were the same. Hundreds of them. A forest of bodies impaled feet off the ground, limbs dangling.

"What the…." Her hands flew to her mouth, and the churning, writhing sensation threatened to spill up from her gut. The faces were bad enough. The hollow shells of humans hanging like meat in the sky was plenty. It wasn't just that, though.

She'd seen it before.

"Look, we know it's not fair to ask this of you, but it's in everyone's best interest if you have a bodyguard for a while." The model stood as she spoke, leaning down across the table with an intensity reserved only for battle. Venus had given her that look right before they started the descent into D-point last year. It had been cold, calculating, perhaps a little terrifying even then. "You're the only one without a real schedule this summer. We all have to take turns."

"Guys," Serena stuttered, still staring at the screen with the most terrible sense of dread building within. It was so familiar that she could almost feel the cold wind on her arms. Was this what he meant by telling the truth? He'd said something strange in the book about honesty–maybe some sort of homicidal tendency? That includes impaling people? She blanched, feeling that cold seep deep into her chest.

"All of us. I don't want to hear any excuses," the blond insisted, leaning even further toward her friend. It was enough to tear her eyes away from the pictures, but not enough to prepare her for Darien standing at the edge of their table. She shrank into the seat beneath the frozen glare. His eyes were settled on her with the same dark intensity that Vlad had shown last night.

"Oh," she squeaked, the heat already burning the back of her eyes. She blinked away, hoping the tears wouldn't start flowing automatically. The others, sure, she could deal with spending time with friends. At least their presence would help with the anxiety smoking in her gut. Her gaze fled back toward the pictures, wondering at how familiar it all seemed. Maybe it was those cold eyes punching holes through her chest, leaving her out in the sun to bake and bleed out. Especially after the last few days, there was no denying she didn't want to see him. As far as she knew, he felt the same way. "You don't have to help, ya know. We can do fine without you."

We broke up ages ago.

"Leave him alone, Serena, we need the insight," Mina snarled, fingers going white on the table top. It was so easy for her, she'd never dated anyone seriously. She didn't have an entire lifetime of expectation hanging over her head like a scythe. After seeing them face to face last night, Darien seemed more dangerous than Vlad. He'd been so cold. Angry.

"Look, it sucks. We get it," Raye simmered from the other side of the table. Her dark violet eyes were filled with compassion, perhaps even pity. "Unfortunately, if he is who he claims to be, Darien is our best bet to get inside his head."

Serena shuddered away from the thought, clutching at her mouth to keep from screaming. They didn't understand! Getting in Darien's head was like a death trap–she already knew more than he bothered to tell her simply because it was obvious that he hated her. He'd felt that way since they met. If some poor lost soul had somehow fallen victim to their past, she'd never live it down.

"What I want to know is how he even got here. I mean, there's a whole myth around him, but it's not exactly…based on reality." Raye flicked a smoldering lock of hair over one shoulder. The move was unconsciously confident, but the downward tilt of her eyes spoke of nerves.

"Well, they did find animal bones in his grave when they excavated over a hundred years ago. We're going to have to face the fact that there may be more truth to the stories than not." Amy flicked her minicomputer toward herself as she spoke, and the glasses reflected the picture another second before changing. Serena's stomach churned and tossed, heat surged through her forehead.

"What stories?" They were all talking in code. Talking over her head because they thought she couldn't handle it. Her thoughts flew back to the pictures, and she felt herself gag. Darien slid into the booth beside Raye, still staring at her with deep concentration. She shuddered away from him, wishing she could melt into the ground so he wouldn't ever look at her again.

"Vlad Dracula, a fifteenth century warlord from what is now Romania. He wasn't exactly what started the vampire myth, but his name was borrowed for it. He was known for impaling people. Lots of people. Maybe drinking their blood. There's a lot of speculation." Darien's voice was so clinical and detached, so unlike the way he was looking at her. Like he was trying to peel her brain back and figure out why the stranger had come after her.

It didn't matter. She already knew all of this. Like the pages of history had been written into her blood, and recalled only as it was spoken. She could almost hear the screams of the dying, could see the bodies on the screen trembling as shock overtook them. One seemed to squelch down his spike another inch. Her eyes shuddered closed, arms drawing around herself so hard she nearly forgot to breathe.

"They called him Vlad Tepes, the impaler." She couldn't see his face, but the ironic twist of his voice was enough. So it was guilt, then. Not that she thought it would be anything else. Darien didn't love her. She was increasingly sure he never had.

"I guess there's no point asking why he's here. How do we get rid of him?" Lita offered, this time leaning forward herself. Mina had taken her seat again at some point beside her counterpart and now sat stewing in her mind somewhere.

"Easy. Give him 5 minutes alone with me," Serena muttered, feeling a little ironic herself. It was all some sick joke. Obviously, if what he said was true, then they had crossed paths before now. If that was the case, then it wouldn't take him long to come to the same conclusion. How he could stick around even hundreds of years later was a mystery. The poor man must be insane. One glance at the screen all but proved it.

"No, I don't think he wants to kill you," Ami muttered, her eyes far away. Serena scoffed tiredly. It wasn't what she'd meant at all, but it was probably better the others didn't know that. Besides, that would be a mercy. She didn't think Darien was capable of that, no matter the lifetime.

"Pth, yeah, kill her. More likely rape," Lita began with a snort, but was cut off as Raye jammed a handful of fries at her face.

"Shut up!" she hissed, casting a glance to Darien uncertainly. Why she did was a bit of a mystery; or maybe she just hadn't put it all together like Serena had. Odd, because the Miko tended to be more in tune with vibes, shouldn't she have known how he felt before anyone else? Didn't they date once? Smoldering violet eyes turned back toward her again, but it all felt like a marionette pulled on strings. "Did he say anything? About why he's here?"

"Some promise. I don't know." The blond shrugged limply, staring at her fingers in her lap. It was better than looking up and facing all of them. Her eyes traced and retraced the images, but whatever memory had been there was gone again. "So…what if he is actually a vampire? Is that really…bad? I mean, the whole blood thing is…"

"We don't know if any of its true. And we're not exactly willing to experiment, so don't try anything." Mina's cornflower gaze was steady and unnerving. It gave Serena something to look at other than the brooding college student at her side. That was one direction she couldn't force herself to turn.

Poor Darien. All he'd wanted was out of this mess, and instead, he gets pulled right back in. Hearing that some past form had been insane enough to do the things displayed on Amy's screen didn't seem right. He was cold, serious, and quiet. It didn't mean he was capable of murder.

"Anyone who can do that to the Specter Sisters shouldn't be messed with, Serena! The guy's dangerous." Raye steamed, crossing her arms. The haughty tone smacked of irritation; as if she were speaking to a child rather than a friend. Serena's fists tightened beneath the table. This was too complex.

First the Dark Moon shows up looking for the crystal and Rini, then Darien breaks up with her, treats her like some piece of garbage, and now the book and Vlad. She just wanted to be normal! It wasn't the first time that hopelessness bit into her chest with jaws of steel. It would have been better had Ann and Allan never showed up, never reawakened all of this nonsense! It was better left dead!

"Ugh, just let him tear my throat out," Serena murmured finally, the heat of her thoughts forcing each word free. It would be better. At least then, everyone could just move on. Their stupid princess wouldn't be a consideration, and the crystal would be forever out of the reach of the enemy. The others could protect Rini. The others could do it better than she could hope to.

"That's not funny," Darien rumbled from across the table, finally drawing her gaze up. The two clashed, hers bright with anger and resentment, his with rage.

"Why? Rather do it yourself?"

"Stop, okay? We get it, you're all broken up! Sheesh!" Raye's hand flew between them, just enough that Serena missed the shock across Darien's brow.

"I've got to get going. Rini." She didn't look at him as he spoke. There was no reason to. He obviously hated her just as much as the enemy did, and should have been overjoyed about the whole mess. She couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't been the mastermind behind it all.

"Yeah, make sure she has it for the meeting," Lita offered gruffly.

"Has what?" Serena whispered to Raye curiously. The Miko looked uncomfortable suddenly, turning away and fiddling with her charcoal hair. The others wouldn't look at her. Darien rose without another word and stalked toward the door like a coming storm.

"What? Guys, hey," she mumbled, but none of them would turn back to her. It made a cold shock seep through her spine, and the hairs on her arms stood at attention. Something wasn't right. What would Rini have? It's not like she was even part of this, other than staying at Serena's house.

Where the book was. The premonition was chilling. She pulled forward in the seat, glaring at Mina in the hopes it wasn't what she thought.

"Don't freak, okay Rena? We just needed to look at the book…."

It was. The betrayal, the fury flared so hot and dark in her chest that she had to force herself not to scream. The Black Moon wouldn't be sitting around wondering who Sailor Moon was, because she'd be knocking down buildings in rage if she didn't put a lid on it right now. How dare they? _How dare they_?

"Go to hell!" she spat finally, the words so laced with acid that everyone flinched in response.

"Serena," Amy tried, but it was no use.

She ran all the way home, but it was too late. The little brat had raided her room, trashed what was left of the closet, and taken the book. The blond crumpled in the piles of clothes left behind. Even the scream of rage choked into bitter sobs.

.

.

….

The dark paneled door stood no chance against her rage. Months earlier, she'd been the obnoxious girl with the sing-song voice carrying down the hall, but this time it was screeching. She slammed her fists against the wood with enough force to hear it groan in response. To hell with the neighbors and whatever sense of decency she had. It was a useless hope to think she'd made it here before Darien could open to that first page, those first sweet words.

Her heartbeat tripled at the thought, and she couldn't help but squelch her eyes shut. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of him, and especially over something so girlie and sentimental. She slammed harder until her bones reverberated. It wasn't his business! It had nothing to do with him! She pulled back to swing again when the sound of the latch came through to her at last.

She blinked, taking in the same dark clothing he'd worn on the street, the curl of long fingers free of the darkness as they closed around the jamb. His face was placid, as it always was, beautiful and unreachable and perfect. It hurt to look at him, even through the rage, through the tears threatening to spill down her face.

"I'm sorry, Serena, it's for your own good," he rumbled quietly without hesitation. He was two steps ahead, even now, when she was all but beaten. She drew a sharp breath, icy and painful; she'd planned every step over here exactly what she would say to him. Instead, it all came sprawling out of her mouth like vomit.

"There's nothing in there for you! Just because some stupid version of you was actually dumb enough to fall for me doesn't mean you get to just take whatever you want!" she shrieked. Her face was molten, and her fingers and hands ached from knocking. He just stood there, completely unmoving, while she tried desperately not to fall apart. Damn him! Damn him and his eternal perfection! Why couldn't he have been a mess like her? Why couldn't he just have said standing by the doom tree that night that she was wasting her time?

"Okay, come sit down." He reached for her arm, but she shrugged away from his touch just as quickly. Yes, go sit on his couch, where he can explain for the millionth time that he didn't care. Maybe he could be bothered to throw in some comment about the book, about what an idiot Vlad was, how she would ruin him too.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed. He drew away just as quickly. "Just give it back. Trust me, it has nothing to do with you!" The words burned on their way out. She was heaving in breaths, ready to completely fall apart or scream until the whole building came to see. Let him try to keep his cool sophistication with the judgment of every neighbor bearing down on him!

"He _is_ me!" The voice took on an unfamiliar edge. Still, the face was calm and placid despite her shrill words. Behind her, a door creaked open, and closed twice as fast. Darien didn't bother looking up over her head. He probably didn't care what the neighbors thought. "If you think for a second I'm going to let this guy get anywhere near you, you're crazy."

"Yeah…wouldn't want me ruining his life, too!" she spat, completely undaunted despite his cold demeanor. Months ago, she would have shriveled up at his feet. Before becoming Sailor Moon, she wouldn't have even tried to stand up to him. Fighting taught her that none of it mattered. No matter how hard she pushed back, there would always be another monster waiting.

"That's not what…"he began, but she was too riled up to let him finish.

"Yes it is!" The words were so high, too shrill and angry and accusatory to be ignored. Though nothing in his demeanor changed, it felt like at least now he was listening. "Be honest for one minute, Darien! You never gave a _shit_ about me, or any of this! That book right there will not say a single word about why he killed all those people. It doesn't say a damn thing about Endymion either, so the both of you can just go to hell!" His eyes flickered, the proverbial jaw-drop if Darien had ever been capable of one.

"Serena," he tried again.

"Don't you dare!" she snapped, shoving at his chest to stop any pathetic excuse that may have come out. Her breathing sounded like a stampede within her skull, accented with rushing blood. She didn't care that the prince had used her. She didn't care that Darien saw nothing when he looked at her. She didn't care about any of it! "He was just looking for someone cheap, and easy, and free," she shoved at him again, "…and you must have been bored to death!"

"It wasn't like that!" he snapped finally, gripping her shoulder. She'd pushed her way into the entryway despite him blocking the door. From her vantage point, there was no sign of the book. It was just her luck that he'd have it hidden away in his bedroom.

"All you guys ever do is fight! Can't you just not talk? Ugh!" Rini screamed from the hallway. Her cheeks were flushed dark, and one hand blocked the sunlight from the window. She looked feverish and cold, and had she not just stolen Serena's property, the teenager probably would have taken some time to help the girl back to bed. As it was, she was way too angry to even consider it.

"Hey, you alright?" Darien asked, turning toward her without a second's hesitation. Of course he would. He doted on Rini. It didn't matter that they were in a yelling match, and it didn't matter than Serena felt like she had finally spoken the truth after all this time. He still only cared about the child.

"My head hurts, and Serena's out here screaming like a banshee! Shut up already!"

"Just give me my book and I'll leave!" the blond snapped, glaring at the carpet murderously.

"Ouch! Shut up!" the sugar-haired girl was now clutching at her skull, but Serena wouldn't see any of it. How dare this little brat take what didn't belong to her? How dare she bring it to Darien? Seriously, of all the people she could have taken it to! Serena would rather have it read on the nightly news than ever allow him to see a single word.

"Hey, quiet, alright? She's not feeling well," the man in question tried to interject, but it made it all the more maddening.

Of course she wasn't. The wrath frying in warrior's blood made her want to burst into unholy flames. Watching him coddle and care for the little liar as if she mattered more than anyone else made it so tempting to just walk in and bash her right in the face. How dare she steal what didn't belong to her, and then turn around and claim to be the victim minutes later?

Darien had the book hidden away, and it was obvious no amount of talking would get it away from him. She scrubbed at the tears burning her cheeks. The creep. It was the last thing he needed to read, how much he _used_ to care about her. Once. About 600 years earlier. All it ever took was some sort of mental disorder, and a lust for human blood. She didn't stick around to watch while Rini got treated better than she ever would. The door slammed shut behind her, hopefully loud enough to aggravate her fake cousin.

She took the stairs down. It gave her time to find a quiet corner to sit in. She huddled together in the corridor, drawing into herself and imagining Darien opening to that first page. Gods, he'd laugh so hard. He'd sneer at every line, shake his head, wonder what may have possessed him to ever write such mushy nonsense. Some of those entries spoke of things only lovers should ever say, things too intimate for someone who hated her as much as he did.

Oh, if she could just curl into a tight little ball and die of humiliation! She wished Vlad was here so they could barge right in, take back the book, and leave so she'd never have to face her ex again. She hadn't had a chance to finish reading it, yet. There was so much left of the story, so much she desperately wanted to know, and now she'd never get the chance. If the scouts had their way, Vlad would be dead or gone in the next few days. It would just be her again, her life. Fighting for nothing. Feeling nothing but despair.

It was probably hours later when she finally left the building. The sun was setting. She cut through the gardens, knowing even as she did that his deck overlooked that side of the building. It wasn't like he'd bother looking for her, especially not after the fight they'd just had. He'd be too busy coddling Rini and her stupid headache. He'd be too enthralled in the pathetic driveling of his past self to even notice she'd left to begin with. His little princess was sleeping on the couch with her stupid headache, and her stupid ball, and her stupid ability to turn everyone against Serena.

Again, she was stopped just feet from her front door. Another bouquet of flowers was waiting with her name scrawled between the leaves. A large box lay beside it, decked with ribbons and bright paper. She sighed weakly and wiped her face in thought. It was definitely from Vlad. He'd wanted to take her out tonight, and she'd forgotten what time. He'd probably come and gone already, tired of waiting for her. She'd think after 600 years, such a thing wouldn't be possible.

"Is it from him?" The familiar voice had her whipping around almost ready for a fight. The tall brunette was calm, though, her hands stuffed in her pockets and a baseball cap pulled low over emerald green eyes. The dark brown curls were spilling over a loose yellow hoodie. She was wearing a pair of running shorts and sneakers. It should have been the most quintessential picture of Lita there was. It wasn't, though. Something felt off.

Serena nodded. Rather than try to wrap her mind around the idea, she let it go and turned back toward the front porch. It would come up. According to the stupid schedule listed in her unread text messages, there would probably be several nights to talk through it. Each girl would have her say. Joy.

Darien's scrawling handwriting was tucked within dark green leaves. It wasn't from him. The thought should have been comforting, all things considered. Instead, it just reminded her of the situation back at his apartment with Rini. Her hands squeezed together at her sides. The tomboy sauntered past in her usual confident gait. She squatted in front of the box and flicked the lid up enough to peer into the package. Tissue paper rustled together for a moment, and Lita hummed thoughtfully.

"Well, he's got good taste, I'll give him that." The brunette turned and smiled at her reassuringly. "Might as well try it on, right?"

"I take it you're on first shift?" the blond retorted snidely. Her friend shrugged casually, straightening with the box in her hands. Serena grabbed the flower vase and clutched it tightly in her fists.

"Like we needed an excuse for a slumber party? Come on."

The two bustled inside. The living room was blessedly empty, and a note left on the kitchen table revealed her parents had left for a dinner date earlier. Sammy was playing games in the living room surrounded by the corpses of cracker boxes and cookie crumbs. Her brother wouldn't care that Lita was there. Serena grabbed a few blankets from the closet on their way upstairs.

"Hey, so he's from some other life, right? In between the Silver Millennium and now?" her friend whispered in her gruff, low voice. She may as well have not tried to keep her voice down, since the reverberation made her ribs tremble.

"That's what he said." Serena shrugged awkwardly, trying to hold the blanket under her arm as it unraveled. They made it to the top of the stairs without too much incident and continued down the long hall past her brother's room.

"You don't think we all got reborn several times, right? Just you guys?" Lita paused by the door, fumbling the large box to one hand so she could get the door. Once inside, Serena cringed at the number of roses piling up on her dresser. The blanket was tossed to the bed, and the vase settled in next to her jewelry box.

She shrugged, tucking the other roses in so they could get to the water at the bottom. The book had rested just there beside the other two flowers. If she hadn't woken up naked this morning, she probably would have read more from their story. The loss left a bitter, metallic taste in her throat. Serena glared toward the closet, and the massive pile of clothes that were piled together in the opening. There had literally been no reason to rip her room apart looking for it. Rini was just a spoiled brat.

"This is really gorgeous. You should try it on!"

"Come on, Leets, we," she stopped short, eyes focusing on the dress hanging from her friend's hands. He did have good taste. An ironic scoff slid free before she could stop it. The shimmering gauze was dusty rose pink with glittering silver stones lining the waist. The off-shoulder, empire silhouette mimicked her dress from the moon kingdom the night she died.

"Well, he's probably gone home already…" she murmured, reaching forward to touch a chain of glittering crystals draping along the sides of the bodice. She was sure there wouldn't be any harm in trying it on. Even the others couldn't hate her for that, right?

She stripped quickly and traded her bra for a strapless style. The gorgeous fabric clung to her skin as she slid into it. The blond turned toward her dresser mirror, running her fingers along the soft neckline. Even without being cinched, the gown was stunning. The slouching straps were intricately detailed with small stones and baby lace. The bodice was structured with just enough dip at the neckline to show a hint of cleavage.

"Um, hey Leets? Could you," she flailed for the zipper blindly before cool fingers closed around her hand.

"Allow me."

Serena whipped around, heart pounding and stomach heaving into her throat. The gorgeous man stood close enough she should have felt his warmth on her back. His approach should have been easy to spot in the mirror. He had no reflection. She gulped as the realization closed in. The cobalt eyes were stormy and unsettling. The others had said something about a vampire. His face was close enough to see the smooth porcelain skin, perfect and unblemished. Her hand was still caught within his fingers, and he took a moment to raise it to his mouth. She watched, fascinated and slightly scared, trying to see if he had the tell-tale fangs. He smiled, his other hand sliding across her waist toward the back. The thunderous pulse at her throat and ears was deafening. The tense moment slid past with the sound of her dress drawing closed.

"L…Lita," she stuttered, wishing her eyes would obey and tear around the room in search of her friend. He was so close, mouth just inches from hers. His eyes were devouring her form in the most delicious, stomach fluttering way. The dress may have clung to her moments earlier, but it was as if the gown never existed, as if his eyes met with only flesh instead. She flushed deeply, but couldn't look away from him, couldn't move for fear he would stop. His hands closed around her waist at last, dark eyes rising to meet hers again.

"Shh," a finger rose to his lips and he turned, just barely enough to reveal the tall brunette sprawled across the bed as if she'd fallen. Instinct kicked in just enough to make her flinch toward her fellow scout, but by then, his other hand closed back around her waist just enough to catch her. "Let her sleep, my love. I'd be honored to assist where she would."

Terror coiled in her gut as she stared, wondering what kind of person could just knock Lita out without a sound. The terrifying images rose in the back of her mind: glazed, whitened eyes staring blankly at the ground. Blood, and the eruption of skin and flesh oozing down from a massive wound.

She shuddered, forcing her eyes closed to steady herself. This wasn't Darien. As much as the other man loathed her existence, he wouldn't snap her neck in half. This man could. Something told her she'd seen him do it.

"I know who you are. Vlad Dracula." She blinked, seeing his cool grey suit and tie. His shoulders were more broad, now that she was right in close. Her eyes flicked upward nervously. Vlad seemed amused, but it lacked the cruel edge she thought would be there. After her run-in with Darien, it felt like he wasn't even capable of kindness. She was obviously afraid. He knew it. The communicator had been in the pocket of her uniform; the same one sprawled a few feet away on the ground. Her broach would be there, too, completely out of her reach.

"Drakulya, or Tepes by my enemies, yes." The soft drawl of his accent made the words sound so different than she'd heard earlier in the day. His tone was the same warm, welcoming lilt he'd used at the restaurant. Helplessly, she found herself staring at his lips as he spoke. "But perhaps you knew this already. Something within you fights to remember. I can see it."

"I…." The cold mist fled from her mouth, and shivers broke the skin into gooseflesh across her arms and back. Already, the room around them was beginning to shift into darkness, lit only by the subdued light cast from a fire. She tried not to see the ghostly outlines of furniture. Instead, she forced herself steady. It took a few breaths. Slowly, her thoughts began to gather again. Finally, she met his gaze head-on. "You're dead."

"Death is a very strange thing. Perhaps not the best descriptor, however it has been useful." One hand left her waist and rose. The long, pale fingers pressed across her eyebrow, releasing a clump of bangs that had caught in her lashes. In the same move, he slid the fingers down across her cheek and along her jaw. The touch felt like liquid electricity shooting straight into her spine. "I will tell you anything you wish to know, Serena. I am yours to command."

It would have been the perfect time to pump him for information. The girls wouldn't have wasted a second. He would have been tied down, interrogated, and left in a corner to rot while they discussed the findings. The others were always so good at keeping themselves fixated on the important things. Serena, however, was not. The muddled thoughts came and went in fragments, none of which were useful. Instead, it was just his gorgeous blue eyes, impossibly deep and warm. She gulped, and fumbled around the only question that came to mind.

"How did you know what size to get?"

"Size?" He chuckled darkly, the hands at her waist tightening just a fraction as he drew himself to full height. "Do you think I should need such a tool? Perhaps you do not remember me, but trust me when I say you have haunted my every moment. I know you as I know myself. Every pleasure point," his thumb pressed against her rib just below the breast with the most delicious pressure, forcing a hoarse moan from her lips. "Every preference," his other hand pushed against her lower abdomen as he spread kisses across her neck and collar.

She shuddered, biting at her lip to keep from groaning in pleasure. Heat pooled lower and lower within her as he worked his way slowly, languorously across her skin. Her hand tangled in his hair even as she leaned against the furniture to keep her balance. There was a brief fear of her parents walking in before a bottle fell from the vanity. Too late, though, because his thumb slid across the line of her hip and stopped long enough to press against a nerve in the most sensual, provocative way. A loud curse broke the quiet, one she was shocked to realize came from her own mouth.

Her partner drew away, a deep-throated chuckle caught between them.

"Choosing a dress is perhaps the least of all things I could do, even blinded." His fingers wrapped around her hip again and pulled until she was pressed up against him. Serena couldn't help but groan again, feeling him all along her front. Her skin was on fire. Her throat was parched and aching. She clung to his jacket helplessly, licking at her chapped, throbbing lips. Vlad slid his nose along hers, pressing soft kisses to her cheek before stilling again. He took a deep, ragged breath. "But I am premature in my eagerness. Are you hungry?"

AN: Hey guys! Happy Valentines!

Sorry this didn't come out sooner. I had it up on the Facebook page early last week, but, well, life's been interesting. I did happen to find some time, and thought tonight would be perfect to go ahead and post this. For anyone wondering, I did have to split this into 4 parts (even though I put it in Tri, ya know, meaning three…jeez) so the next will come out hopefully early next month.

SUPER loves for slightlyxjaded, she totes got this back to me in record time!

For anyone interested, ellourahlofthousefiction on facebook is the place to be, I have a few short stories I'm working on right now that are exclusive to that page. Hopefully I'll have the original ready to submit sometime in the next month or two. Nobody panic! It's so hard not to just explode about this storyline. Seriously. Ugh!

Much love to all!

E


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